


Destruction

by CIandSVUcrazy



Category: Law & Order: Criminal Intent
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 43,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1748654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CIandSVUcrazy/pseuds/CIandSVUcrazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex's partner is murdered, beginning a chain of events threatening to destroy the life that she and Bobby have made together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Boyd

_Bobby stood next to the baby’s crib, looking down. The fact that Alex wasn’t there cut to the core of him like a white-hot knife. He had told them, they didn’t know Alex like he did. She had survived so much. She had been in many dangerous situations. Even now, there was a psychopath intending to hunt her down and kill her. How could she have survived all that, only to die in a situation that millions of women went through with no problem?_

_She had already delivered another baby without complications, when her nephew was born. How could she have died having a baby? It didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t accept it. How could she survive dangerous situations with hardened criminals, only to die giving birth?_

_The baby shifted, bringing Bobby’s attention back to the small form in the crib. This baby was all he had left now. This baby was who Alex had died for. He had resented that fact only until his eyes fell onto the baby for the first time. He had felt nothing but love and protectiveness from the first moment he held his child in his arms. No, he didn’t blame the baby. This baby was now his entire world._

_Deciding that standing by the crib was not close enough, he reached in to pick the baby up. Only cradling the tiny infant against his chest, with their beating hearts separated only by flesh, bone, and flimsy fabric, could he have the baby close enough._

_In a hospital room far away from where Bobby cradled the infant, Alex Eames lay unconscious, unaware that her husband held their baby and grieved for the wife he believed had died._

_**(March 2009)** _

Bobby was sitting at his desk, tapping a pen rhythmically against it, when Alex walked over to him. “I’m on break,” she said, perching on the edge of his desk. Bobby looked up and saw her partner heading to the elevator. He wasn’t sure where his partner had gone. Probably far away. No one else could put up with him the way Alex had. 

“And you thought you’d come and distract me from my paperwork?” he asked, smiling. 

“Ah, well, if you’re too busy,” she joked, getting up to walk away. He stood up and followed her. “Where is your partner anyway?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you tell him you’re taking your break now?”

“I don’t know,” Bobby replied. “I’m surprised he hasn’t requested a new partner yet. Actually,” he said thoughtfully, “he probably has, and it just hasn’t gone through yet.”

Alex clucked her tongue disapprovingly, but her smile betrayed that she wasn’t really annoyed with him. “You should really try to hold on to a partner, Bobby.”

“Okay,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her as the elevator doors closed. She laughed, spinning around to face him. 

“Not exactly what I meant, but this works,” she said. He bent down to kiss her. 

“Are you two doing okay, still?” Bobby asked after they broke apart. He had one hand resting on her back, the other over her abdomen. 

“We’re fine,” Alex said.

“I just worry,” Bobby fretted. 

“I know,” Alex replied. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

“I’ll feel better once you’re on leave,” he replied. 

“Will you?” she asked. “I’ve already been on desk for months. I have a feeling you’ll keep worrying right up until the baby’s born.”

He frowned slightly. “Does that bother you?” he asked. 

“No,” she assured him. “Not really. If it makes you feel any better, this is my last day,” she reminded him. 

Bobby nodded. “You’re in court for the rest of the afternoon, right?” 

“Yes, I have to testify for the Boyd case.”

Well, at least she wasn’t out on the streets, hunting down criminals, he thought. She would probably be much safer in court. Even though she denied it, he knew that she got annoyed with him fussing over her. But he couldn’t help it – he worried. 

 

Alex had left the witness stand and was heading back towards the gallery. She was the last to testify, and the judge excused the jury to reach a verdict. After the combined effects of both her and her partner’s testimony, she doubted Boyd would avoid jail time. 

Alex’s partner was waiting for her at the front of the gallery. _I’m pregnant, not incompetent!_ She thought irritably. Between her two partners, she was lucky that she was allowed to walk around on her own. Both Bobby and Casselman insisted on being with her constantly, something she found both endearing and incredibly annoying. 

The feeling of someone looking at her made her turn. Boyd was glowering at her from his seat at the defense table. She was about to turn away again when he leaned forward, and whispered, “I will _destroy _you.”__

__Casselman was at her side in an instant. “What did you say?” he demanded aggressively._ _

__A slow smile spread across Boyd’s face. But it wasn’t the smile of someone who was genuinely happy… more of someone who was taking great pleasure in something that was going to happen in the future. “I said,” Boyd repeated, “I’m going to destroy you… All of you,” he added, including both Alex and Casselman in his unblinking gaze._ _

__“If you’re not careful, Boyd,” Alex snapped, “we’ll add harassment to the charges against you.”_ _

__Casselman looked ready to say more, but Alex was used to reigning in her young fiery partner. “Come on Casselman,” she said quietly, so only he could hear. “Boyd’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”_ _

__Casselman allowed her to lead him from the courtroom. “You okay?” she asked when they left._ _

__“Fine,” Casselman replied. “Did it not bother you, what Boyd said back there?”_ _

__Alex shrugged. “I’ve had plenty of perps threaten me. It stops getting to you after a while. But you can still report what he said.”_ _

__“No,” Casselman said. “I’m not going to rise to the bait.”_ _

__“Boyd doesn’t have to know,” Alex said. “It’s protocol to report what he said. No one’s going to think you’re scared, Casselman,” she added, smiling. “I would appreciate it if you could report it though, because it’s my last day and I’d rather not prolong it. You can file the report tomorrow.”_ _

__“Right,” Casselman said. “It was a pleasure to work with you Detective Eames,” he said formally, shaking her hand._ _

__“You as well, Casselman,” she replied._ _

__She turned to leave. “Eames?” Casselman asked, following her. “I could walk you to your car, if you want.”_ _

__“That’s okay, Casselman,” Alex replied. “My other bodyguard is waiting.” She indicated Bobby, who was standing at the courthouse doors._ _

__Casselman blushed. He hadn’t realized it had been so obvious that he was trying to look after his pregnant partner. She was the senior partner after all, and could certainly take care of herself._ _

__Alex smiled and turned back to clap a hand onto his shoulder. “You’re next partner is lucky to have you,” she said. Casselman blushed an even deeper red._ _

__“I guess I’ll see you at the wedding,” he said. He was set to marry his fiancé a month after Alex’s due date. He had invited her, Bobby, and the baby to the wedding. Alex had been touched to see that he remembered the due date, and had included the baby in the wedding invitation._ _

__“I’ll be there,” she replied._ _

__“Take care,” Casselman said. He waved to Bobby, and left. Alex approached her husband smiling. Any thoughts either of them had concerning Boyd had vanished… but his thoughts were still focused on them._ _

__

__“Eames,” she muttered into the phone. Next to her, Bobby was also sitting up, woken by her phone._ _

__“Jessie?” she asked. “Slow down honey, what’s wrong?”_ _

__Bobby frowned with concern as Alex blanched. “I’m coming over,” she said. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” She hung up the phone and let her hand drop woodenly to the bed._ _

__“What is it?” Bobby demanded. “What happened?”_ _

__“That was Jessie,” Alex said. “Cassleman’s fiancée.” She turned to face Bobby, and took a deep breath before forcing the words that rose like poison out from her lips. “She said that he was murdered.”_ _


	2. Cassleman

_(March 2009)_

“Boyd, he threatened Casselman,” Alex continued. She had a feeling she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “He threatened both of us in the courtroom yesterday. I didn’t take it seriously because I didn’t think Boyd had those kinds of connections but I don’t know who else would do this…”

“Take a breath, Alex,” Bobby said. “I know this is tough, and I’m sorry, but you need to relax.”

“Right,” Alex agreed, settling. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Bobby replied. He wasn’t used to being the voice of reason. Alex didn’t normally get upset like this, but she and Casselman had gotten close in their partnership. 

Before they could continue their conversation they had pulled up at the house and he and Alex had both slipped out of the car, holding their badges out as they approached the crime scene tape. “Major Case,” Alex called to the uniformed officer. 

“Sorry guys,” the young cop apologized. “You know I can’t let you near this one.”

“That’s my partner,” Alex snapped. 

“Then I really can’t let you in,” the officer said. “I’m really sorry.”

“Like hell you can’t!”

“Alex,” Bobby said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “He’s just doing his job.”

She turned away, pinching the bridge of her nose. A sure sign that she was stressed, Bobby knew. “Listen,” Bobby said to the officer. “Could we just speak to one of the detectives in there who might know something?” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” the man replied sympathetically. 

Fifteen minutes later, a detective approached them. “Pewter, Homicide,” he introduced himself. 

“Goren and Eames, Major Case,” Bobby returned, indicating himself and Alex. “Is there anything you can tell us?”

“Nothing good I’m afraid,” Pewter replied grimly. “The ME said that preliminary cause of death was a suicide.”

“Suicide?” Alex echoed sharply. 

“I’m afraid so,” Pewter replied. 

“No,” Alex stated flatly. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, the ME still has to do an autopsy of course,” Pewter conceded, “But judging from the crime scene that’s really what it looked like.”

“Well they’re wrong!” Alex snapped. “He had no sign of depression – I just talked to him today! He’s getting married soon! A guy like Casselman doesn’t just kill himself out of the blue without any warning.”

“Let me guess,” Pewter said. “You’re his partner.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded. 

“Alex,” Bobby warned. The other detective was looking less sympathetic now, and Bobby had a feeling that they were about to get sent away from the crime scene. He felt that she was justified in her reaction, but he didn’t know Pewter. 

“I’m sorry about your partner,” Pewter said. “But you may just need to accept this.”

“I won’t,” Alex replied coldly. 

Pewter’s gaze became visibly harder. “I need to get back to the crime scene.” He turned and went back in. 

“You do that,” Alex muttered darkly. “Try some real investigating!”

“You’re lucky he didn’t hear that,” Bobby commented. 

“Oh, like you can even talk after all the stunts you’ve pulled!”

“I’m sorry,” Bobby said softly. He reached forward to pull her into his arms, not caring who was looking at them. “I’m sorry about your partner.”

“I’m sorry too,” she echoed, her voice wavering. “He was a good man.”

 

“Boyd threatened us in the courtroom that day,” Alex repeated. 

“What exactly did he say?” the detective asked. 

“He said: I will destroy you,” Alex recalled. 

“Kind of a vague threat,” the detective commented.

“That’s what I thought,” Alex agreed. “I didn’t take him seriously.”

“But now you do,” the detective inferred. “Why?”

“The fact that Cassleman’s been murdered, to start,” Alex snapped. 

“We haven’t determined cause of death yet,” he cautioned. 

Alex snorted impatiently. “He didn’t commit suicide.” Alex pictured the look on Boyd’s face when he had threatened them. The look in his eyes… crazy eyes; that’s what he had. She should have realized he was serious… But she hadn’t known that he was connected enough to arrange a hit from the inside. 

“Boyd’s a sadist,” Alex explained. “He got off on the pain of the victims. Not just physical, although he did use a multitude of weapons to torture his victims. He also liked to torment them mentally. He recorded torture sessions and told the victims that he would send the tapes to their family. He did – and set up cameras so that he could watch their reactions, and force his victims to watch. He played torture tapes from previous victims when he wasn’t around to do it himself. He played mind games with them. To him, watching them lose their minds gave him about as much pleasure as the physical violence he used against them.”

“We’re all in agreement that this guy is a real sicko,” the detective assured her, “We just can’t be sure he’s the one who murdered your partner. If he’s such a sadist – why make the murder look like a suicide? Why not torture the victim?”

“A cop killing would have to be quick to avoid detection,” Alex reasoned. “And besides, Boyd wasn’t the one to do the kill – he’s still locked up.”

“We still have to keep an open mind,” the detective said. “Are you sure you can’t think of anyone else?”

“I never heard anyone else threaten him,” Alex replied. 

“Okay, thanks for your help.”

Alex watched the detective leave, frowning at his back. Bobby came over and sat down next to her. “Are you okay?” he asked softly. 

“I’m thinking,” Alex replied vaguely. “He’s right – Boyd would have wanted some gratification from the kill. To see his handiwork in some way, in order to enjoy the havoc he was wreaking.”

The two remained silent for a time, both thinking. Bobby broke the silence, saying, “You said that Boyd set up cameras in the houses of the victim’s family, in order to watch their reactions to the tapes?”

Alex didn’t bother to answer; she simply whipped out her phone to call the detective back. “Check the house for cameras,” she instructed, not even bothering with anything else. 

“If Boyd’s behind this,” Alex said to Bobby after she hung up, “He’ll have had someone set up cameras to see Jessie’s reaction.”

“Not to mention the investigation,” Bobby agreed. Suddenly, he shot up and began prowling the room, peering into things such as the heating vents. 

“Bobby?” Alex asked, trying to contain a laugh at his sudden transformation into some sort of hunting animal. “What are you doing?”

“Searching for cameras,” he replied. 

“Bobby…”

“If Boyd went after Cassleman, he could very well be coming after you!” Bobby said shortly. “I won’t take that risk. I can’t.”

 

“They found cameras at Cassleman’s place,” Alex informed Bobby. He nodded. 

“But none at our place,” Alex reminded him. “So you can stop looking so worried now.”

“But he threatened both of you.”

“Yes,” Alex admitted. “But-”

“What exactly did he say, again?” Bobby interrupted, his characteristic thoughtful frown creasing his features. 

“He said I’m going to destroy you,” Alex repeated. “All of you.”

“All of you?” Bobby repeated. 

“Yes.”

Bobby’s frown deepened. “But he was talking to you and Cassleman?”

“Yes,” Alex agreed, trying to figure out where he was going with his questions. 

When he realized she was looking at him questioningly, he explained, “Well, it’s just that the correct way to threaten two people is: I’m going to destroy both of you.”

“So what?” Alex asked. “Boyd used the wrong word. Does it really matter?”

Bobby remained silent for a moment longer. “No,” he conceded. “I guess not.”

“Anyway, they’re tracing Boyd’s visitor and call log, trying to figure out who he contacted to arrange it,” Alex said. “But if he talked to someone on the inside, we’re going to have a hard time figuring out who it was.”

“I’m going to go and question Boyd,” Bobby said. “He’s got nothing to lose, really. Maybe he’ll be ready to take credit for the kill; take pride in it.” 

Alex nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe. I’ll come with you.”

“No,” Bobby insisted. “I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

“I can handle it,” Alex replied irritably. “Besides, he’s in a prison. No one’s going to let him try anything.”

“He’s going to try and get a reaction from you, about Cassleman’s death.”

“I can handle it!” Alex insisted again. 

“Your anger will be just what he wants,” Bobby told her. “You’d really be playing right into his hands by going to see him.”

Alex huffed irritably. “Fine!” she snapped. “You know I don’t want to give him what he wants. But I’ll have you know that _I_ know you’re just using that as an excuse because you don’t want me there.”

“That’s not the point…” Bobby tried, his cheeks flushing. 

“That’s exactly the point and you know it,” Alex scolded. “Maybe I won’t be playing into Boyd’s hands; I’ll just be playing into yours.” She shook her head. 

“I love you,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“I love you too, but I’m still angry with you,” she informed him. “And I’m not forgiving you until at least tonight. Now go on, I want to hear what Boyd has to say.”

 

“Hello, Detective Goren,” Boyd greeted as soon as Bobby walked through the door. 

Bobby decided not to engage in Boyd’s small talk. He wanted the upper hand, wanted to play games. By refusing to acknowledge anything but what he came to ask about, Bobby wasn’t playing his part. “I’m here to ask you what you know about the murder of Detective Cassleman,” he said instead. 

“I heard that the poor man committed suicide,” Boyd commented. Rather than irritate him, Boyd leaned forward, engaged by Bobby’s refusal to exchange pleasantries. 

“You heard, did you?” Bobby asked sharply. “How?”

“Oh, I could never reveal my sources,” Boyd began to say. He was cut off by Bobby continuing. 

“And did you have any part in Detective Cassleman’s death?”

Now Boyd was annoyed. He frowned, but quickly covered it with a smile, readjusting in his seat so that he fully faced Bobby. “If I did, why would I admi-”

“Then you deny you ordered a hit on the detective who helped put you away?”

“My, my, detective,” Boyd commented, no trace of a smile left. “I find your interruptions very-”

“Just answer the question,” Bobby interrupted again. 

There, he had done it. There was that gleam in Boyd’s eyes, the look on his face, the expression of a killer. Bobby had brought out the true Boyd. But that didn’t mean he was done playing games. 

Boyd leaned forward over the table, and began speaking softly and quickly, “Yes, maybe I did, detective. Maybe I did order a hit. But you can’t prove it or you would have done something about it by now. You only have your gut feeling. But there was another detective who played a part in my arrest; there was another who sealed my fate with her testimony.”

He leaned back, satisfied, watching Bobby for signs of distress. Bobby was careful to reveal nothing. “Yes, I know about that,” he said simply. “As for evidence, we have the cameras put up in Cassleman’s apartment for you to watch, because you like to see the result of your handiwork.”

“Oh yes,” Boyd agreed. “The look on poor Jessica’s face when she saw her dead fiancée was just priceless…”

“So you do admit that you have a part in his death,” Bobby asked. He stuck to the part, stuck to what he was supposed to say… but something was wrong. Boyd was too relaxed; he had given in too easily. 

“I do love watching the faces of loved ones when they realize what I’ve done,” Boyd continued casually, as if he hadn’t heard the question. “The shock, the grief… the panic.” Bobby felt his heart sinking. Boyd was up to something, poised for the kill. Right as Bobby realized that panic wasn’t what Boyd should have seen on Jessie’s face when she found Cassleman, Boyd started speaking again. “How long do you think it takes to break into a house, find someone, overpower them, kill them, and stage the scene?” he asked, his pleasure growing more evident as Bobby began to rise from his chair. “And how long, detective?” Boyd asked, his voice echoing with glee, “How long do you think you’ve been away from Detective Eames?”

The sound of Boyd’s laughter bounced off the walls, growing louder, as Bobby began banging on the door and yelling for the guard. “I knew you would come!” Boyd accused gleefully. “And I knew you’d never let _her_


	3. Abruption

Using his own set of lights and sirens, Bobby made it back to the apartment building where he and Alex lived just as they were loading her into an ambulance. An ambulance – that meant she was still alive. 

He had called ahead as he left the prison to enlist help to get to his house. Boyd must have planned this. He was only lucky that Alex had survived. Bobby threw himself from the vehicle, rushing over. “What happened?” he demanded. “Is she alright?”

“She should be fine,” one of the paramedics told him. “Looks like she fell down the stairs on her way to the laundry room.” He shut the door and went around to the front of the ambulance. 

First a suicide, then an accident. Boyd didn’t seem to be eager to take the wrap for these murders. Then again, he had as much as confessed to Bobby just that afternoon. And whoever he had hired hadn’t gotten the job done – for which Bobby was grateful. They hadn’t bothered to see if Alex had survived the fall. Or they had been interrupted. 

But all of that could wait. Bobby launched himself back into the vehicle, turned on the lights and sirens, and followed the ambulance to the hospital.

 

“Mr. Goren?”

Bobby jumped up out of his chair in the waiting room. “Yes. How is she?”

“She’s doing quite well,” the doctor assured him. “She has a concussion, but there doesn’t seem to be any sign of brain swelling or bleeding at this point. We’d like to keep her overnight just to be sure no complications follow. She has multiple abrasions and contusions from the fall, but luckily no broken bones.”

“And the baby?” Bobby asked. 

The doctor paused just long enough for Bobby’s stomach to drop, before saying, “There was some minimal vaginal bleeding when she came in, but vitals were stable for both your wife and the baby. As of right now, the baby is fine, but I’ve consulted an OB/GYN, Dr. Fuller. She’ll be in to talk to the two of you shortly.”

“So they’re both okay?” Bobby asked. 

“Yes,” the doctor confirmed. “But as I said, we’re keeping your wife in for monitoring for the next twenty-four hours to make sure there aren’t any complications.”

“Thank you,” Bobby said. 

The doctor told him where to find Alex’s room, and he rushed over. Pushing the door open, he whispered, “Alex?”

She was lying in the bed, with a few monitors beeping besides her. Bobby could see some scrapes and bruises along one of her arms and the side of her face. She blinked her eyes open at the sound of his voice. “Bobby,” she greeted. She sounded tired. 

He hurried over and seized one of her hands. “How are you?” he asked. 

“Fine,” she replied. “Tired. Sore. My head is killing me. But fine.”

“Did they tell you anything?” he asked. 

“About what happened?” She scrunched her eyebrows, thinking. “They said I fell down the stairs at our apartment,” she said. “I don’t remember, thanks to the concussion. I guess I must have miss stepped…”

“It was Boyd,” Bobby said furiously. 

“Boyd?” Alex asked. 

“I was going to question him… You – you don’t remember?” Bobby faltered. 

“Boyd,” she repeated slowly, thinking. “Cassleman… the cameras…”

“That’s right,” Bobby encouraged. 

“But I had the laundry with me,” Alex said, confused. “It was there, at the bottom of the stairs.”

“It was a frame-job. Just like with Cassleman.”

“Or it really was an accident,” Alex said. “Trying to make it down the stairs with baby and the laundry basket blocking the view of my own feet… I probably just missed a step.”

“Were you planning on doing laundry?” Bobby asked. 

“No, but I might have decided to after you left… I can’t remember. But it doesn’t seem like the type of thing Boyd would do.” 

“Neither was the way Cassleman was murdered, but Boyd as much as confessed to it when I questioned him. He threatened you, and then you supposedly fall down the stairs?”

“If Boyd wanted me dead, I would have been an easy target unconscious at the bottom of the stairs,” Alex said. “Well I would have been,” she said when Bobby flinched. 

“But the timing,” he said. “Right when I’m questioning Boyd, he makes a threat against you.”

“Well of course he did!” Alex exclaimed. “Didn’t you warn me that he would try and get a reaction out of me because my partner was murdered? He was doing the same thing with you. He was playing you, Bobby!”

“And then you end up in the hospital? That’s some coincidence!”

Alex groaned and closed her eyes. “I already have a headache; can we please argue about this later?”

“I’m sorry,” Bobby said quickly. He had been up and pacing the room; now he went over and snatched up her hand again. “Alex, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” His guilty eyes found hers, and she sighed. 

“It’s so difficult to stay angry with you when you give me that look,” she said, a small smile playing at her lips. 

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to push my luck, especially after what happened during my suspension...”

“Oh, Bobby,” Alex groaned, pulling her hand away to massage her temples. “Why would you bring that up again? Can’t you let it rest? My head hurts to damn much to indulge you in a guilt trip right now.”

Bobby set his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. Why did he have to open his mouth? Especially right now. The last thing she needed was for him to remind her of that. The night he returned from suspension he had managed to turn what should have been a day of celebration into a night of anger thanks to his antics. 

He had been on suspension after his rogue undercover mission at Tate’s Corrections. After his own wife had nearly shot him during a raid when he had been undercover again, a heated discussion had ensued in the interrogation viewing room and continued at the apartment that night. 

_“What on earth were you thinking, Bobby?”_

_“I had to get my shield back,” he repeated._

_“You keep saying that!” she snapped._

_“Well, you keep asking.”_

_“Well, that’s not good enough!”_

_“It’s already done,” Bobby sighed. “There’s nothing I can do about it now.”_

_“Well you damn well had the chance long before now!” she raged. “You could have at least gotten word to me so I could know that there was a strong chance you could get your head blown off!”_

_“Alex…”_

_“Don’t!” she yelled. “We’re married, Bobby. You’re supposed to be honest with me; trust me!”_

_“I know we’re married,” Bobby answered guiltily. “But that’s all the more reason why I had to protect you from this.”_

_“Protect me?” she shrieked. “How is you getting yourself killed protecting me?”_

_“Well, I wasn’t supposed to get myself killed; obviously that wasn’t part of the plan.”_

_“Oh, really?” she asked, laughing humorously. “Not part of the plan? My God, Bobby, didn’t you think? Didn’t you think for one second of what it would do to me to lose you?”_

_“I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want for that to happen,” he stammered._

_“You could have died,” she said, tears of anger and fear filling her eyes. “You almost did. You would have died and left me to raise our child on my own!”_

_“I… what?”_

_“I’m pregnant, you asshole!” she yelled. “Something I might already have told you if you weren’t too busy out trying to get yourself killed!” And with that, she slammed their bedroom door shut in his face._

“I’m sorry,” Bobby repeated. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Damn right,” she muttered. 

“Alex?” 

“What?”

“I love you.”

She opened her eyes again, meeting his apologetic gaze. “I love you too, you goof,” she sighed. 

“Forgive me?” he asked. 

“Maybe.”

He nodded, dropping his gaze to his hands. It was about as much as he could ask for right now. She laughed softly, pulling his eyes back up to hers. “Oh, wipe that look off of your face,” she said. “As if I could even make you feel any worse than you already do. You’re forgiven. Just please try not to bring it up again.”

“I won’t,” he said quickly. 

“You will,” she disagreed. “You’re like the poster boy for emotional turmoil. It’s as though you want me to be angry with you often enough to feed some need for guilt. It drives me crazy.”

“Believe it or not, I actually don’t try to make you angry on purpose,” he said, slightly irritated with this accusation. 

They were prevented from continuing their discussion by the door opening. “Hello, I’m Doctor Fuller,” the woman said. “I saw you earlier,” she said to Alex, “but you probably don’t remember.”

“No, sorry,” Alex replied. 

“That’s quite alright,” the doctor replied. “You were pretty groggy still. I had done a physical exam and an ultrasound, and checked your baby’s vitals. I just have a few questions before we discuss your case.”

“Okay,” Alex agreed. 

“Are you experiencing any abdominal pain or tenderness?” 

“Just some dull pain from the fall,” Alex replied. 

“Any cramping?”

“No.”

The doctor approached the bed. “I’m just going to feel along your belly, and you let me know if you feel any pain or tenderness, okay?”

Alex started to nod and then stopped, wincing. “Sure,” she said instead. 

Bobby shoved his chair back out of the way, watching Alex’s face for any signs of pain. He noticed her wince only once, something Dr. Fuller noticed too. Before she could ask, Alex explained, “I’ve got a hematoma there from the fall.” 

“A hematoma?” the doctor asked, continuing her exam while watching her patient’s face. “You in the medical field?”

“No,” Alex replied. “NYPD.”

“NYPD,” Dr. Fuller echoed. “Tough job.”

Alex shrugged in response. She was exhausted. She felt as though she’d run a marathon and then been run over by a truck at the finish line. 

“Okay, that’s it,” the doctor said. “Now, as for your baby,” she said, flipping open the chart she was holding, “he or she is looking pretty good right now. How far along are you?”

“Thirty-three weeks,” Alex replied. 

“Yes, I figured it was about then,” Dr. Fuller mused.

“So the baby’s okay?” Alex asked. 

“You had some minor vaginal bleeding when you were brought in,” the doctor began. “I did a thorough examination, during which time the bleeding stopped. I believe that a partial placental abruption occurred.”

“What does that mean?” Bobby asked nervously. 

“It means that part of the placenta came off of the uterine wall,” the doctor explained. “Usually the cause of an abruption is unknown, but it can occur due to trauma, such as a fall. Severe or complete abruptions can lead to significant blood loss and require an immediate caesarian section, but yours was only partial with minimal blood loss. With a partial abruption it is sometimes recommended to proceed with delivery. However, we prefer to wait until at least thirty-four weeks before delivery. Your baby is just shy of that mark.”

“So, you’re not going to deliver the baby?” Bobby confirmed. 

“I’d like to wait until the baby is more developed,” the doctor agreed. “Even another week or two increases the baby’s chance of being healthy at birth.”

“But if the placenta has started to come off the uterine wall; there’s a risk that it could come completely unattached, isn’t there?” Bobby asked. 

“Yes,” Dr. Fuller said. “That’s why we would need you to stay on bed rest,” she instructed Alex. “No physical exertion of any kind – and that most certainly includes chasing down criminals,” she added lightly. “I’d need you to remain as relaxed and rested as possible, and watch for any signs of complications.”

“And what would happen if the placenta was to detach any more?” Bobby asked. “Or all the way?”

Dr. Fuller paused. “I’m going to be straight with you,” she said. Bobby and Alex nodded, wanting to hear the honest truth. “If there was to be a complete abruption, the consequences would be severe,” she warned. 

“Life-threatening?” Bobby asked, fear starting to constrict his throat. 

“Yes.”

Alex squeezed Bobby’s hand reassuringly. “For me or the baby?” she asked. 

“Both,” Dr. Fuller replied. “If a complete abruption were to occur, it would lead to significant blood loss. This could cause you to go into hypovolemic shock, and deprive the baby of oxygen and nutrients.”

“Okay,” Alex said, nodding and then cringing at the pain the movement caused. 

“How much of a risk is there of that happening?” Bobby asked. 

“I can’t really give you any odds,” Dr. Fuller said sympathetically. “Each case is different. I can tell you that the fact that the bleeding stopped pretty quickly, there’s no abdominal pain or cramping, and the baby’s vitals are stable are all good signs.”

“So everything is going to be fine,” Alex said. 

“I don’t like to make guarantees,” the doctor cautioned. “Watch for any signs of complications. If you experience any bleeding, cramping, or pain, even if it’s only minor or intermittent, you need to come back in immediately. Also, there may be minimal or even no overt bleeding even with a complete abruption, as the blood can sometimes become trapped. If you experience any sudden or extreme fatigue it could be a sign of blood loss, and again, I would urge you to come back in and have them page me immediately. I’m going to come back in and do another ultrasound before you go tomorrow, but minor bleeding is sometimes difficult to detect, so again I urge you to be cautious of any increase in fatigue.” 

“But I can go home tomorrow?” Alex confirmed. 

“Yes,” Dr. Fuller replied. “Keep up with your regular check-ups and watch for any changes.”

“I’m going to call your sister tonight,” Bobby said nervously after the doctor left. “I’ll see if she can stay with you while I’m at work.”

“No need,” Alex replied. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’d really rather someone stayed with you,” Bobby insisted. “You’re supposed to stay rested.”

“My sister has a four-year-old son to take care of,” Alex argued. “She doesn’t need to be baby-sitting me on top of that.”

“Your nephew’s in school during the day,” Bobby countered. 

“And Liz will have better things to do with her time than hanging around our apartment all day.”

“Well, maybe your parents can trade off days with Liz, and I’ll talk to Ross and get off work early,” Bobby suggested. 

“Please do not get my parents involved,” Alex moaned. “They’ll just worry.”

“But I’m sure they’d want to help.”

“Knowing they’re worrying will just stress me out,” Alex countered. “And,” she added mischievously, “You know I’m supposed to be rested and relaxed.”

“Please don’t joke about this,” Bobby snapped. “We’re talking about your health here.”

Alex sighed. “Listen, Bobby. How about we agree that you call me when you’re on break to check in on me, and I’ll be a good girl and stay in the apartment resting while you’re at work. I promise I won’t go down the stairs to do any more laundry.”

“Alright,” he sighed. “But if you need anything during the day-”

“I’ll wait for you or call Liz,” she assured him. “Promise.”

“Okay,” Bobby agreed. Alex’s eyes had drifted closed again. “Get some sleep,” he said softly. 

“You too,” she murmured. 

As if he could possibly sleep. He sat vigil by her bed, ears tuned to the steady rhythms of the room – the steady sound of her breathing and the multiple sounds of beeping machines.


	4. Worry

_(March 2009)_

 

“I thought you were only going to call me on your breaks?” Alex asked. 

“I am on break,” Bobby replied. 

“This is your fifth, no, make that your sixth break,” Alex chastised. 

“So?”

“So,” she said, “It’s unusual for you to even take more than one.”

“I just wanted to check on you,” he explained. 

“So it seems,” she replied. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Annoyed,” she replied. 

“But really,” Bobby insisted, “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted through gritted teeth. “But you won’t be if you call me to ask one more time. I might have to assign you a quota for how many times you can ask me how I’m feeling in a day.”

“I just-”

“Worry,” she supplied. “I know.” She considered sarcastically suggesting that he be grateful she wasn’t undercover attempting to be killed, but decided better of it. “I’m not answering if you call me again today,” she said instead. 

“If you don’t answer I’m coming straight home,” he replied. “Lights and sirens.”

“Oh brother,” she muttered. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, hearing the front door creak. 

“I’m getting the mail,” she replied. 

“You’re supposed to be on bed rest!” Bobby snapped. 

“Bed _rest _, not bed _a_ rrest!” she countered. “Do you want to install handcuffs to the bedposts?”__

__She was met with silence. Then, “No,” he muttered sullenly._ _

__“I literally walked to the front door, and back to the bedroom,” she said with exaggerated slowness. “There’s nothing to…”_ _

__“Alex?” he asked._ _

__“On second thought, maybe you could just come home now.”_ _

__“Why; what’s wrong?”_ _

__“Someone left a message,” Alex replied._ _

__

__“Do you believe me now?” Bobby demanded, pacing restlessly._ _

__“Yes, yes,” Alex replied testily._ _

__Someone had left a letter, threatening her life, along with a photograph of her at the bottom of the stairs with the mail outside their apartment door._ _

__“I’m getting a surveillance car for outside of the apartment,” Bobby insisted._ _

__“To look for what?” Alex demanded. “It’s not like Boyd can come on in by himself!”_ _

__“Well, then at least they can be close by if someone shows up again,” Bobby insisted._ _

__“You’re not going to give up on this, are you?”_ _

__“Nope.”_ _

__“Fine,” she sighed. “But a fat lot of good it’ll do.”_ _

__

__“Are you doing okay?” Bobby asked as he came in the door, the same as he did every day._ _

__“No,” Alex replied sarcastically. “I became critical since you called me right before you left.”_ _

__“That’s not funny.”_ _

__“Neither is the fact that you’re driving me crazy,” she countered._ _

__“I’m not trying to drive you crazy,” Bobby said, throwing his suit jacket over the back of a chair. “I’m concerned.”_ _

__“Well, maybe you could at least start with hello when you come in the door,” Alex suggested. “If there was something wrong, I would tell you. Okay?”_ _

__“Okay,” Bobby agreed sheepishly. He knew he was irritating her, and he really didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t seem to help himself._ _

__“Did they find any leads on Cassleman?” Alex asked hesitantly._ _

__“No,” Bobby replied. “But I thought you might be glad to know that the ME ruled his death a homicide – not a suicide.”_ _

__Alex breathed a sigh of relief. “Good,” she said. “What convinced them?”_ _

__“The toxicology report,” Bobby replied. “They found traces of a paralytic in his system.”_ _

__“Hard to shoot yourself when you’re paralyzed,” Alex stated._ _

__Bobby nodded in reply. “But the angle was right, and his hand was covered in gunshot residue. It’s not surprising that the initial investigation pointed to a suicide.”_ _

__“The gun was in his hand, the gunshot residue, and the angle – this guy is good,” Alex said. “But then, why the paralytic? It’s almost the perfect crime.”_ _

__“My guess?” Bobby asked. “The perp used it so that he could put the gun in Cassleman’s hand, and pull the trigger with his own finger; literally making him shoot himself. It would get the angle right and cause there to be gunshot residue on the victim’s hands.”_ _

__An image of someone grabbing Cassleman’s hand and playing the ‘stop hitting yourself’ game that little kids did filled Alex’s mind, making her feel sick. “The paralytic wouldn’t knock him out, would it?” she asked._ _

__“No,” Bobby replied. “He would have been aware of everything happening.”_ _

__“But unable to stop it,” Alex finished. “Sick bastard.”_ _

__“Boyd is of course the lead suspect,” Bobby continued, trying to distract her from thoughts of her partner’s last moments. “But he isn’t giving it up. And we still have no idea who he could have contacted to make the hit. He has no known gang affiliations; he hasn’t even teamed up with a gang for protection inside. He doesn’t have any close family or friends that we could find. There wasn’t any physical evidence at the crime scene, or on the photograph that was left outside our door.” Bobby stopped his monologue, frowning. “It still bothers me that he knows where we live. Maybe we should go somewhere else.”_ _

__“You already said we have no proof,” Alex said. “We’d be running away for who knows how long? Besides, we already said this guy is thorough. He’d just find us if we moved.”_ _

__“I suppose you’re right,” Bobby sighed. “But I still don’t like it.”_ _

__“We’ll be distracted soon enough,” Alex said, smiling._ _

__For the first time in days, Bobby also smiled. “You’re right,” he agreed._ _

__“Mom stopped by today with another blanket,” Alex said._ _

__“Another?” Bobby asked. “This baby already has so many blankets – the majority knitted by your mother. Is it another yellow one?”_ _

__Since they had decided not to find out the baby’s sex, the room was painted a soft yellow, with the majority of the accessories in yellows and greens. In the interest of being prepared (or so was her excuse), Penny had knitted a blanket in yellow, green, orange, and red before saying that if the baby was a girl, she needed a pink blanket or a boy needed blue. She and a few friends had also made a beautiful patchwork quilt._ _

__“Actually, it wasn’t one blanket, it was three,” Alex replied, grinning. “She made a purple one and a blue and red checkered one, and then apparently realized that we now had just as many gender-specific blankets as we did uni-sex blankets. So she whipped up a green and yellow striped blanket, and promised to bring another one next time.”_ _

__Bobby raised his eyebrows. “Did you tell her we have enough blankets to swaddle all the infants in this building?”_ _

__Alex laughed. “No, but she did make a fair point. She reminded me that babies are messy, and there’s a good chance that we’ll already have laundry piling up constantly. At least this way we won’t ever need to worry about running out of blankets.”_ _

__“I suppose,” Bobby agreed, shaking his head with a smile on his face. Penny was at least as excited for the new baby as they were. The fact that she already had three grandchildren did nothing to dampen her enthusiasm. He wondered if his own mother would have been as excited as Alex’s._ _

__Though his mother wasn’t the type to knit a few dozen blankets, Bobby was certain that she would have made her pleasure known in her own way. She had always wanted grandchildren. Though he had dealt with her schizophrenia for as long as he could remember, the cancer had ravaged her much quicker than he had anticipated. It pained him to think that she had missed meeting her grandchild by less than a year._ _

__“Hey,” Alex said softly. “Where’d you’re mind go just now?”_ _

__“Nothing, nowhere,” Bobby said quickly, not wanting to dampen the happiness they had just shared. At her look, he sighed and gave in. “I was just thinking about Ma.”_ _

__Alex reached out to take his hand, eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Bobby,” she said. “I wish she could have been here with us.”_ _

__“I just wish she could have held our child, even once,” Bobby lamented. “If she even could have known that she was to be a grandmother… It would have meant a lot to her.”_ _

__“I’d like to think she knows,” Alex said._ _

__“Yes,” Bobby agreed. “I would too.”_ _

__“Well,” Bobby said after a short silence, changing the subject, “It’s only a few more weeks until the due date. Have you given any more thought to names?”_ _

__“No,” Alex replied. “I really think we have to see the baby before picking a name.”_ _

__“We could have a few ready, and make the final choice after the baby is born,” Bobby coaxed. He didn’t like the thought of being unprepared._ _

__“Some people say it’s bad luck to have too much ready before the baby’s born,” Alex said in reply. “And we already have the room completely ready. Picking names will just invite more trouble than we already have,” she said, eyes sparkling with mischief._ _

__“Hmm,” Bobby replied. “You’re not usually the one to bring up information like that.”_ _

__“I come from a pretty big family,” Alex replied. “My brother and sister already have kids. I may not know anything about museums in Egypt, but I do know all about baby lore.”_ _

__Bobby laughed, Alex joining in. “If it will make you feel better, I can take the crib down,” Bobby joked._ _

__“Oh no,” Alex replied with false concern. “I know how you like to have things prepared. The sight of a dismantled crib will set you on edge. I don’t think I can cope with any more of your nervous energy.”_ _

__“Are you saying it’s my fault if we have bad luck?” Bobby asked in mock rage._ _

__“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Alex laughed. “Blame the man – I hear there’ll be a lot more of that going around in the delivery room too. You might as well be prepared.”_ _

__“Well, that’s just great,” Bobby replied. “Did you blame Pete last time?” Bobby asked, referring to her nephew’s delivery._ _

__“No, although I did threaten to strangle my sister,” Alex recalled. “Mom made her leave the room until my nephew was born.”_ _

__“Maybe I should duck out too…”_ _

__“Don’t you dare!” Alex exclaimed, smacking his arm. “Whose hand will I break if you’re not there?”_ _

__“That’s really convincing me,” Bobby joked. “How about I let Penny take care of the hand-holding?”_ _

__“You wouldn’t!” she insisted. “Don’t even kid me, Bobby, you’ll be there. You wouldn’t miss our baby’s birth.”_ _

__“You’re right,” he said, picking up her hand. “I’ll be there. Promise. Even if you break my hand.” He kissed hers, as though sealing his promise._ _

__“I know,” she replied, the mood suddenly dropping from one of light-hearted fun, to a more sombre feeling._ _

__“I love you,” he added, his tone now one of complete seriousness._ _

__“I love you too,” she replied._ _

__As they got ready for bed, Bobby couldn’t help but feel nervous for some reason. For all his kidding around, he was worried for the upcoming delivery. The next few weeks would be plenty of time for his nerves to fray; not helped at all by the constant threat of what Boyd might have planned and by Alex’s recent tumble down the stairs._ _

__Any time he had been happy, he had always been waiting for the other shoe to drop. But hadn’t it already done so? With the threat of Boyd and the complication? But then, could one really neatly tally up all the good and bad in their lives to predict a conclusion? Of course not. In any case, there was much more positive than negative right now._ _

__Bobby sighed. He was looking for a pattern where there wasn’t one. Life was too unpredictable. It was quite possible that everything would turn out perfectly, all of the anxiety of the present completely forgotten in a year’s time. Then again, it was equally likely that everything would fall to pieces. Bobby rolled over to his side, trying to quiet his thoughts. But he couldn’t dislodge the sense of foreboding he felt creeping up on him. It took a long time for him to fall asleep that night._ _


	5. Panic

_(March 2009)_

Bobby awoke with a start to the sound of a loud crash. He immediately reached for Alex, but she wasn’t there.

He leapt out of the bed. “Alex?” he called. “What happened – are you okay?”

“I just fell,” came the reply. 

He rushed to the bathroom, where her voice was coming from. 

“I tripped over the bathmat and-” she broke off with a sharp intake of breath. 

“Alex?” he asked urgently, his panic rising. His only answer was a moan of pain coming from the other side of the door. “ALEX!” He twisted the handle. “Alex are you okay?”

There was the sound of shallow, fast breathing. Then, “No.” The word was followed by a small whimper of pain. And Alex didn’t ever admit that she wasn’t okay; or give in to pain enough to make a sound. These two things combined sent Bobby’s level of panic rising to a new level. 

“Alex, are you near the door?” Bobby managed to choke out past the thick clump of fear in his throat. “If you’re near the door, I need you to move away so I can get it open.”

 _Curse doors that opened into the room, curse bathmats, curse everything…_ Bobby waited at the door, his heart beating alarmingly fast against his chest. “Alex?” he asked. “Did you hear that?”

She was still breathing fast, gasping. “Yes,” she managed. “I’m-” she broke off, trying to cover a moan that turned to another whimper. “I’m moving,” she managed. Inside the room, she tried to maneuver herself away from the door. The pain had come on so suddenly. It rippled across her back, and her abdomen. And it was worse than before, much worse. She slid across the floor… slid? Alex lifted a hand up to look at it. Her hand was shaking, the fingers wet with blood. 

“Okay,” she managed. Bobby opened the door carefully so as to not hit her. He gasped at the sight that met him. She was half-sitting against the wall, panting. A bloodstain spread across the pajama pants she was wearing, on the floor, where she had touched the wall…

“Oh God, Alex,” he whispered. He threw himself down next to her, the knees of his own pajama pants soaking through with blood. She looked to him, and he saw that her eyes were clouded with pain.

When she looked at him, she saw that everything about him demonstrated fear. His eyes were bright with it. And she knew it was bad, but to see the terror when he looked at her made it even more real. 

“I’m going to get you to the hospital,” he told her. “There’s not enough room in here for me to pick you up, so I’m going to have to pull you out, okay?” he asked. 

She managed a nod before the pain took over again. She started shivering as he moved to a better position. He felt a thrill of dread when he saw it, because he knew what that meant. She was going into shock… 

He locked his arms around her and began to awkwardly shuffle back out of the room, still crouched, pulling her with him. She began shaking even harder, her teeth clacking together. 

“Bobby,” she whispered. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

She lurched forward, and he shifted his weight to support her as she retched. He seized her hair and pulled it back just in time. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He tried to reassure her even though inside he was screaming – It’s not okay!

He grabbed a handful of toilet paper to wipe her mouth. She fell back against him, still shivering violently. She pulled her legs in towards herself, gasping. Small sounds escaped her as he resumed pulling her from the room, and he realized she was trying to hold back tears. 

His heart clenched painfully at the sounds, but he couldn’t offer any comfort. He wished so much that he could trade places with her, to save her the pain. He lowered her to the floor and pulled the blanket from their bed to wrap around her. 

“I’m going to call the surveillance car, get them to warn the hospital we’re coming,” he told her. She didn’t answer. Her eyes were squeezed shut while she continued to gasp for air, taking short shallow breaths. “Alex,” he said, “you’re hyperventilating. Try and take deeper breaths, baby, please.”

He snatched the phone and pounded the numbers into it. “Come on,” he encouraged. He lay down next to her, adding his body heat to hers. He took exaggerated deep breaths, trying to encourage her to do the same. 

The unit posted outside their house answered. “Alex fell, there’s a lot of blood, she’s going into shock,” he said in one breath. “We’re heading to the nearest hospital.” He hung up without waiting for a response. 

Alex was still on the floor with her eyes squeezed shut, her arms wrapped around her swollen belly. She arched her back and moaned again. “Alex, you’ve got to try not to push right now, okay?” Bobby insisted. “Alex, do you hear me?” The baby couldn’t come now. There was so much blood…

He knelt down and pushed his arms underneath of her, lifting her from the ground as he stood. “Breathe with me, honey,” he repeated. She placed one hand on his shoulder, gripping as tightly as she could. Her teeth were still chattering, but by the time he belted her in the passenger seat of the SUV, her breathing had evened out. 

He flew to the other side and launched himself in the driver’s side, hitting his shin, elbow, and the top of his head on the way. The seat was still adjusted for her driving, but he didn’t have time to waste fixing it. He shoved the mirror into a passable position, slammed the door shut, and started the vehicle. 

“Cold,” Alex murmured. Bobby turned the heat up to full, and tucked the blanket under her chin with one hand. 

“Try and stay awake,” Bobby instructed, panicked. “Open your eyes, Alex. Open them, please!”

She wrenched her eyes open and looked at him. She didn’t think she had ever seen him so terrified. She wished there was some way to reassure him. “I love you,” she whispered. 

“I love you too,” he replied. He pulled the SUV out and began weaving through traffic.

“I always loved you… I love you more than… I ever thought was possible,” she continued, pausing intermediately to gasp painfully. “I just wanted you to know that.”

“Alex, don’t,” he begged. “Don’t talk like that. You’re fine; you’re going to be fine.”

“It’s true though,” she said faintly, through her chattering teeth. “I think I’ve loved you ever since I met you.”

“That’s not true,” Bobby reminded her. “You requested a new partner. You tried to get away from me.” He was trying to make a joke, hoping to make her smile and distract her from the pain, but perhaps he was just too frightened to force the humor through.

“Maybe… I was just running from myself,” she replied vaguely. 

He turned to look at her, confused, but her eyes had drifted shut again. He accelerated to pass another group of cars, pulling his eyes back to the road. 

“I’m… really c-cold,” she repeated, still shivering. She was wrapped in a blanket and the heat was blasting. He was sweating; his shirt clung to him. 

“We’re almost there,” he assured her. “Did you hear me, Alex? We’re almost there.”

“I heard,” she replied. Her voice was even fainter, so he had to strain to hear it. 

“Come on,” he begged. “Stay awake now. Talk to me, Alex.”

She forced her eyes open again and managed to look at him. It took her a moment to be able to focus on him. 

“Why don’t we talk about our favourite topic?” he asked. “Let’s talk about the baby.”

A small smile turned up at the corners of her lips. “Okay,” she replied. 

“What do you think?” he asked, ignoring the horn that blared from a vehicle he cut off. “Boy or girl?”

“Mom thinks it’s a girl,” Alex replied. “Said that… I’m carrying different…than with my nephew.”

“A girl then,” Bobby agreed, weaving around another car. 

“What do you think?” she asked him. And at the moment, it didn’t matter that they’d had this conversation many times before. She was awake, she was talking. 

“I don’t know,” Bobby replied. “I’d be happy with either.”

“Me too,” she replied. 

He glanced over at her again. She was deathly pale, her eyes drifting open and shut as though weighed down. He pushed his foot down on the gas pedal again. 

“Maybe a boy… just like you?” she managed. 

“Or a little girl, just like you?” he responded. 

“Or maybe… she’ll be… like both…”

“Like both of us,” he finished for her. 

He pulled the car up at the hospital. “We’re here,” he told her. “It’s okay, Alex, we’re here.”

He flung the gear shift into park and launched himself out the door. Rushing to her door, he yanked it open and removed her seatbelt before lifting her out. “Hang on, Alex,” he whispered into her hair. 

He burst through the doors of the emergency room, and was glad that they didn’t seem to require any explanation on his part. As soon as the triage nurse caught sight of them, she paged for a trauma team and OB/GYN. “Dr. Fuller!” Bobby called to her. “Page Dr. Fuller!” 

A group of people rushed towards him pulling a gurney. Reluctant though he was to release his hold on her, he knew that he had to. He laid her down and found that people were shoving their way past him, getting between him and Alex. 

Her eyes were open again, searching. “Bobby?” she asked nervously. “Bobby where are you?”

He forced his way through and seized her hand. “I’m right here,” he assured her. 

“Don’t leave me,” she said, her eyes panicked. 

“I’m not leaving, Alex; I’m right here,” he assured her. 

He felt someone tap him smartly on the arm, and realized that they had been trying to talk to him. “You’re the husband?” he demanded. “You’re the baby’s father?”

“Yes,” Bobby replied. 

“What’s her name?”

“Alexandra Eames-Goren.”

“What’s her blood type?” the man asked briskly. 

“O positive,” Bobby replied. 

“We need O positive blood here!” he tossed over his shoulder. “How far along is she?”

“Thirty-six weeks,” Bobby replied. 

“What happened?”

“She fell,” Bobby replied. “She had a partial placental abruption three weeks ago and was on bed rest.”

“Was there a cause for the abruption?” the man asked while one of his colleagues strategically placed wires on Alex. Someone else had already cut her shirt open. 

“She was pushed down the stairs,” Bobby replied. 

“Trauma,” the man muttered to himself. They swung into a room. “I believe we have a complete placental abruption here people, significant blood loss!” he told the room at large. “Get her prepped, and someone call the OR. She needs an immediate caesarian.”

“Where’s Dr. Fuller?” Bobby demanded. 

“She’ll meet us in the OR.”

“Bobby.”

There was so much sound in the room that he almost missed her saying his name. He leaned down close to her and smoothed her hair away from her face. “Yes?” he asked. 

“There’s something I never told you,” she replied. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“I… I have a… a fear of surgeries.”

He looked down at her, his heart feeling like it was being ripped apart by the fear that stared back at him from the depths of her eyes. He wished so much that he could do this for her. “They have to,” he told her. 

She began shaking her head, pressing her lips together to keep from crying. She didn’t want to appear weak. And she hated being scared. But everything had gone so wrong, and now they wanted to cut her open. 

Her heart monitor began to beep faster, her heart rate climbing. 

“Is there any way the baby can be delivered without a C-section?” Bobby asked. 

“A caesarian is the best option here,” the doctor replied briefly. 

“My wife,” Bobby explained, “she’s afraid of surgery.”

The doctor glanced at the woman’s face, pinched in terror. “There’s been significant blood loss and she’s obviously in pain,” he replied sympathetically. “It really can’t wait. Try to reassure her.”

Bobby turned back to Alex. “Hey,” he whispered. “They’re going to have to do the C-section. But it’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay, Alex. You’re strong, you can do this.”

She gripped his hand tightly. “Okay,” she replied shakily. 

He held her hand and stroked her hair while the medical professionals scurried around the room, preparing for the surgery. He lifted their clenched hands up to plant a kiss on the back of hers. 

“Bobby?”

“Yes, Alex?” He waited, but she didn’t say anything else. “Alex?” he asked again, concerned. Her grip slackened; her hand limp in his. “Alex!” He turned to the doctor. “Something’s wrong!”

At almost the same moment, the heart monitor let out a whine – an alarm. “Mom’s stats are dropping!” someone called. 

“Let’s move people,” the doctor instructed. As they began to unlock the wheels another monitor began beeping. The fetal monitor, already beeping at an alarming pace, began to increase. 

“Fetus is in distress!” someone else called. 

“Let’s go people!” the doctor called. “Now!” 

They seized the gurney and began to rush out of the room. Bobby clung to Alex’s limp hand. “Alex!” 

He wasn’t sure if it was seconds or hours later when people were pulling him away. “That’s a sterile operating room, you can’t go in there.”

“No,” Bobby argued. “No, I said I wouldn’t leave her, I said I’d be right there!” 

Someone was trying to pry his hand away from hers. “No!” he cried. He was unaware of someone calling security. He was a big man – it would be difficult to get him away from the patient if he didn’t want to go. 

It was the doctor who stepped up to him, almost matching in height. “If you don’t let go; they will die,” he said simply. “The longer you delay us, the higher the risk. Is that what you want?”

It may have sounded harsh, but it was the only thing that broke through to him. “No,” he repeated, but this time, the sound came out as a dry sob. “No, you have to save them.” He opened his hand and felt Alex’s slip out as they took her away from him. 

The doctor nodded before turning to burst through the doors after everyone else, grateful that they hadn’t had to wait for security to come; grateful that the man was coherent enough to understand what he was doing. It wasn’t the first time an emotionally distraught family member had unintentionally delayed medical treatment because they were blind with panic.

Bobby glimpsed Dr. Fuller, fully gowned up, entering an operating suite. Bobby stood just outside the doors leading to the restricted operating area as the doors swung shut. But as they swung closed, he thought of what the doctor had said. Living without Alex…

“No,” he said aloud. “No… uh, no.” He moved towards the doors and banged his fists against them. “Wait!” he called. “Wait – You’ve got to understand! I can’t live without my wife! Please! I can’t live without her!” 

Strong hands matched with sympathetic voices pulled him from the doors. He fell to his knees on the floor, sobbing. He noticed vaguely that he was still wearing blood-stained pajamas. He wrapped his arms around himself, wishing he could wrap them around her, and he cried.


	6. Waiting

**_(March 2009)_ **

Bobby sat numbly in a chair, waiting. At some point, he had rolled up the legs of his pajama pants. They now sat at the length of shorts, with a thick rolled up clump at the bottom. He had grown cold at some point, but refused to roll them down. They weren't rolled to cool off; they were rolled so he couldn't feel the sticky wetness of blood on his knees. The rest of the leg cushioned the blood drenched knee section. It never occurred to him how ridiculous he looked, nor would he have cared if it had.

Bobby leapt up every time someone walked into the waiting room through the operating area doors. But they were never coming to talk to him. Bobby had seen people sob with relief and devastation, feeling strangely detached. Most of the people who had been waiting when he came in had already left.

Bobby leapt to his feet again, and went over to the desk. "Excuse me," he said. "I'm waiting to hear about my wife."

"Someone will be out to speak to you as soon as they can," the woman behind the desk said. Her eyes travelled back to the computer screen in front of her.

"Isn't there some way to check how things are going?"

"Someone will be out as soon as possible," she repeated.

"But it's been so long!" he exploded, making more than a few people in the room jump.

The woman looked back up, meeting his furiously terrified gaze. "I know it seems that way," she sympathized. "But I assure you, as soon as they finish, someone will be here to talk to you."

Bobby's shoulders drooped. The waiting was becoming physically painful. His whole body was tense. Each time the door swung open, both his hope and fear skyrocketed, then plummeted when they went to talk to someone else.

Bobby flopped back into the seat he'd occupied for what felt like forever. How long had he been waiting? What time was it now? He wasn't sure. He wasn't wearing his watch. He braced his elbows on his knees, dropping his head into his hands. A moment later, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to meet the sympathetic gaze of a woman who appeared to be in her eighties.

"Who are you waiting for, dear?"

Bobby hesitated, but there was only sympathy in the woman's gaze. Sympathy and worry for her own family member. "My wife," Bobby replied miserably.

She nodded, rubbing his shoulder in a comforting way. "My husband and son are in there. Car crash."

"I'm sorry," Bobby replied automatically.

"My daughter-in-law and grandson are still in the ER. A broken arm and glass embedded in the flesh are apparently not priority," she said somewhat bitterly. "I came up here to wait for my husband and son's surgeries to be finished. I was the only one to walk away with practically nothing to show for that terrible crash," she confessed.

"That's not your fault," Bobby said. The woman's guilt and pain had momentarily distracted him somewhat.

"I understand that here," she said, tapping her temple, "but not here." She laid a hand over her chest, choking up. Bobby took her other hand in his own, because it seemed like the right thing to do. "I would rather be the one in there," she said thickly, her eyes wandering to the doors leading to the operating rooms. "I would rather be the one; not my husband, not my son."

"I understand," Bobby replied fervently.

"If you don't mind me asking," the woman said, once she'd gained control of herself again, "Why does your wife need surgery?"

"Emergency C-section," Bobby replied.

"Then we're in the same situation," she said. Bobby met her gaze. In a way, she was right. Their similar circumstances had inexplicably drawn the two strangers together, both drawing comfort through shared fear. "They're removing my son's spleen. Routine, they said. Nothing to worry about."

"That's good," Bobby said cautiously.

She nodded. "Anything can happen though. And my husband… they said they need to drill a hole in his skull. To relieve pressure in his brain. We've been married for fifty-two years. What will I do if he doesn't… if they can't..."

"I know," Bobby said. "I know."

They sat clutching each other's hands for what seemed like hours before a woman in scrubs came out and walked towards them. Bobby felt the woman's hand tremble in his own, and he squeezed it reassuringly. The doctor's eyes were on her, not him. No news about Alex yet. The expression 'no news is good news' really didn't appeal to him right now.

"We just finished your son's surgery," the doctor was saying. "He's in recovery, doing well, no complications in surgery. I checked with Dr. Garret on my way, they're finishing up on your husband now; he handled the surgery very well too."

"Thank you!" she sobbed. "Oh thank you, thank you!" She spontaneously turned and hugged the man she was sitting next to, startling Bobby. The doctor continued to talk, but Bobby wasn't paying attention to what she was saying. The woman released him and jumped up, giving the impression of youth despite her obvious age.

"I hope you get good news too," she said to Bobby, who nodded. Just as their circumstances had drawn them together, they now added a distance between them. Her family was going to be fine. Bobby was still waiting. "Good luck," she said. And then she was gone. Bobby realised he didn't even know her name.

His heel began to bounce with worry and impatience. What was taking so long? They'd had time to drill into a man's head, but not deliver a baby by caesarian section? It seemed like the latter shouldn't take so much longer than the former. And surely they would have had to do some sort of test, some sort of brain scan, to determine that he needed surgery to relieve the pressure? Besides, Bobby been waiting for quite a time before the woman had even come up. Of course, he reasoned, she might have been in the ER for a while before they'd let her come up.

Still, as Bobby looked around the room again, he saw that only one person was still in the room who had been there when he'd arrived. What were the odds that all the other emergency surgeries were faster than Alex's? Some people had even come and left again in the time he'd been waiting. What was going on?

Bobby jumped up again to demand that someone tell him something when he was distracted by a voice over the intercom declaring a code blue in the first floor D-wing staff lounge. Staff lounge? Had a patient wandered in and had a heart attack?

The woman at the desk looked confused too. She knew something that Bobby didn't – it required hospital ID card access to enter the staff lounge. In fact, the D wing of the first floor staff lounge only ever had surgical staff in it – since surgeons never wanted to be far from the operating room just in case, while cleaning staff and orderlies tended to go to the cafeteria.

A code team went flying through the waiting room, dragging the crash cart with them. There was one in each of the operating rooms, but not near the staff lounge. They were coming from the recovery room, bursting through the waiting room on their way.

There was one surgeon in his sixties, but the rest were mostly younger, although stress and other risk factors could cause an earlier heart attack in any of the doctors or nurses. Despite protocol, the woman behind the desk got up to check who it was. Most of the people in the room didn't even blink, too caught up in their own misery.

She went to the staff lounge, standing just outside, trying to peek through the people to see who it was on the floor. "Only those necessary for the code, Cheryl," someone barked irritably as he made his way by.

"Do you know who it is?" Cheryl asked.

The surgeon had finished his shift, and had stopped in to see if they needed his help for the code. He stepped away from the doorway in case someone needed in or out as the team tried to revive the scrub-clad figure on the floor. "It's Heather," he replied dispiritedly.

"But she's so young!" Cheryl exclaimed.

The other doctor shrugged heavily. "It doesn't always matter," he said tiredly. "Go back to your post, Cheryl." He dropped a hand on her shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture before turning and going on his way. The woman settled back at her desk, wishing it wasn't inappropriate to wait and hear the outcome of the code. She was almost immediately hounded by the same man from earlier appearing at the desk looking nearly insane with anxiety.

"What is going on?" he demanded fiercely. "I've been waiting for hours! What could have happened to make a C-section take so long?"

Cheryl felt her heart sink at the description of the surgery. "Do you know who the surgeon was?" she asked worriedly.

"Dr. Fuller," Bobby replied quickly. Finally, someone was going to do something!

She picked up the phone, dialing a number with a worried look on her face. "What is it?" Bobby demanded. "Hey! What's going on? Who are you calling?" Cheryl made a shushing gesture, and Bobby complied, heart racing.

"Hi Faye," she said. "It's Cheryl. Do you know who the resident with Dr. Fuller is? I know, but I've got a man here waiting for news about his wife. Yeah, I guess she didn't get to it before… You heard? Oh, it's awful. Okay, thanks hun." She hung up. "I'm going to page Dr. Jefferies for you," she said to Bobby. "He'll be able to answer your questions."

"What about Dr. Fuller?" Bobby demanded. "Where is she?" He had liked the doctor when he first met her, and he especially appreciated her honesty. And in these uncertain circumstances, he wanted someone familiar.

"Dr. Jefferies will tell you everything you need to know," Cheryl told him.

"What's awful?" Bobby asked suspiciously. "Why can't Dr. Fuller come?"

Despite his worry, Bobby's keen detective mind began to connect the pieces. The crash team running by, the code in the first floor staff lounge, Cheryl's expression, the abnormally long wait, Dr. Fuller's suspicious absence…"

Bobby turned and took off running. "Sir!" Cheryl called after him. "Where are you going? There's no running!" she called hopelessly after his fleeing figure.

Bobby slid to halt outside the open staff lounge door; in time to see the team packing up from their unsuccessful endeavor. He had to grip the doorframe to prevent from falling as his knees buckled. The woman lying dead on the floor was Dr. Fuller.


	7. Baby Girl Goren

**_(March 2009)_ **

_Earlier That Night_

Alex's eyes opened. For a moment, she had no idea what was going on. Then it all started creeping back in. "Bobby?" she asked weakly.

"It's okay, Alexandra," a voice said. "We're about to do the C-section. You try and relax."

Relax? How could she possibly relax? They were about to cut into her! She looked down, sick with terror, but there was a screen blocking her view. The lights above her seemed to be spinning. "Bobby," she murmured. A moment later, she slipped back into unconsciousness.

Dr. Fuller was good at what she did. She went through the motions quickly and carefully, lifting the tiny form out from its mother's womb. Alex's eyes opened again, just in time to see the woman turning to pass something to another person out of her view.

"My baby," she said, but so softly that no one heard. Why wasn't the baby crying? Babies should cry when they're born. She tried to ask someone why the baby wasn't crying, but she felt the darkness closing in on her mind again. She tried to fight it, but it overtook her just as the infant let out a sound that could be classified as a wail - barely.

"Transfer the infant to the NICU," Dr. Fuller instructed. The baby was alive. She was glad she had good news for her patient. If she lived.

 

Dr. Fuller pulled off her scrub cap, tired but pleased. She wished all her cases could turn out so positively. She would clean up, and then go straight out to speak to her patient's husband.

"Excuse me?" a voice asked. Dr. Fuller turned to face the man, eyes glancing at what he held out. "We need to speak privately."

"Alright," she agreed. "But could we make it quick? I'd like to get back out to speak to my patient's family." She swiped her ID card, pushing open the door to the empty staff lounge.

 

"This is a restricted area," the hospital's medical examiner's assistant informed the two people.

"We're from Jameson and Sons Funeral Home," one of them explained. "We're here to pick up," he glanced down at the clipboard he held, "Mrs. Anne Ferguson."

"Ferguson," the assistant muttered, checking his own file. "Family declined autopsy. There should be a release here… got it. You have the proper documentation?"

The funeral home employee handed over the papers. They were examined, and then the assistant nodded. "She's in the fridge, number 12. Do you mind grabbing her yourself? I've got a stiff to pick up from the fifth floor."

The two nodded, and made their way past the assistant. After picking up the body, the assistant made his way back down to the morgue, only to meet the narrowed gaze of the medical examiner. "What?" he asked irritably.

The ME's frown deepened at this response. "Where's the body from the first floor?"

"The first floor?" his assistant echoed. "I haven't been to the first floor all day."

If possible, the ME's gaze hardened even more. He handed his assistant the documentation wordlessly. The assistant looked it over. "Eames-Goren?" he asked. "No, I'd remember that name. I'm sure I haven't picked up any hyphenated names."

"Do you see this?" the ME asked sarcastically, pointing. "That confirms that she should be here in the morgue, number 11."

"Maybe she got put in the wrong drawer."

"I checked them all," the ME countered.

"Well, maybe there's some other mistake. I swear I didn't bring her down. Here, look – she was Dr. Fuller's patient. That woman's all about patient care, maybe that includes a personal delivery." The assistant started to chuckle at his own joke, but broke off at the less than impressed expression on his mentor's face.

"Find out," the ME instructed. "Go find Dr. Fuller and ask her. I'm going to get out Mrs. Ferguson; the people from the funeral home should be coming to get her soon."

"They were already here," the assistant replied.

"I seriously doubt it, since Mrs. Ferguson is still here," the ME countered.

"Uh oh," the assistant said nervously.

"What is it?" the ME asked.

"I think I know what happened to the missing stiff." The ME frowned, but gestured for the assistant to continue. The assistant picked up the forms, confirming the pick-up of the body. "It seems the funeral home guys took the wrong corpse."

"What?" the ME thundered. "Did you not supervise?"

"I had to pick up the body from the fifth floor!" the assistant exclaimed defensively. "I told them which drawer she was in; they must have grabbed the wrong one!"

The ME growled in frustration. "Call them," he instructed abruptly. "Fix this – preferably before the families find out about the mix up. If someone's head is going on a platter, you can bet I'll give them yours!"

The ME continued to mutter curses until his assistant came back. "Well?" he asked dangerously. "Are they coming back?"

"There was an accident," the assistant replied, no trace of humor left on his pale face.

"More like carelessness on everyone's part," the ME muttered. "What did they say?"

"No, you misunderstand me," the assistant replied. "The funeral home just got a report of a traffic accident involving the funeral home's vehicle."

"Survivors?"

"No."

The ME's own face turned ashen. "I have to contact the authorities and let them know we need to recover the body they had with them."

"That's going to be a problem," the assistant said. "They hit a gas truck. There's not going to be anything left to recover."

 

"Mr. Goren, I'm Dr. Jefferies," the man said. "I was in the OR with Dr. Fuller this afternoon."

The man looked both sad and nervous. Sad for Dr. Fuller, Bobby presumed. He was nervous perhaps because he hadn't talked to nearly as many families so early in his career. "I'm sorry about the doctor," Bobby said, because it was the right thing to do, and he wasn't sure he'd remember to say something later.

Dr. Jefferies nodded in response. "How's Alex?" Bobby asked hurriedly, standing.

"Perhaps you should sit back down," Dr. Jefferies suggested gently.

"No, I think I'd rather stand," Bobby replied, barely contained panic gnawing at his insides.

"Mr. Goren, we did everything we could," Jefferies began hesitantly. "But there was excessive blood loss."

"What are you saying?" Bobby demanded, though he already knew.

"I'm so sorry," Jefferies said, "But your wife didn't make it. She died in the operating room."

Bobby stumbled back over to the chair as numbness spread from his feet up. He fell down heavily into the chair, disbelieving. "No," he said out loud.

"I'm sorry," Jefferies repeated. He truly was. This was something he didn't want to do. He allowed a small time of silence for the man to process this information before continuing, "You have a daughter. Five pounds, six ounces. She's been transferred to the NICU; neonatal intensive care unit."

Bobby looked up. He hadn't even thought about that. If Alex had died from blood loss, he hadn't even suspected that they had managed to save the baby…

"The baby's okay?" he asked.

"She was born a few weeks early, so she's smaller than usual, but so far her lung development appears to be normal. We administered a steroid to help her lungs, and we want to monitor her to be sure. But yes, she's okay."

"The baby's okay," Bobby repeated numbly. "But Alex is… dead."

Jefferies nodded, not sure what to say. This was probably the worst part of being a doctor. The man was still standing, an expression of shock and disbelief on his face. Grief began settling in bit by bit as he processed what Jefferies had said. "Is there someone you can call?" the doctor asked. Bobby didn't answer. He hardly heard what the other man had said. Jefferies tried a different approach. "I could take you to see your daughter, as soon as you're ready."

That broke through. For a split second, he recoiled at the idea. Why should he want to see the one who had caused Alex's death? Then he pushed the thought away angrily. It wasn't the baby's fault. It was Boyd's. He was the one who had caused the abruption, putting her at risk. Bobby stood up as rage momentarily overtook him. Then he stopped. One thing at a time; he could only handle one thing at a time. Bobby pushed the grief and rage into a corner of his mind to deal with later. It was still present, still painful, but he needed to focus. Did he want to see the baby? "Yes," he said out loud.

Jefferies nodded, and led him to the elevator. He had tensed at the expression on the man's face. Rage had twisted Bobby's features nearly beyond recognition for a moment, startling the doctor. But the man only seemed to be filled only with grief now.

He followed the doctor all the way to the NICU in a state of numbed disbelief. Any time he thought of Alex, he pushed it away, biting his tongue and clenching his fists. He couldn't think about her right now. It was too painful. He wasn't sure he'd be able to keep control if he allowed himself to think of her.

Jefferies passed Bobby over to one of the nurses from the NICU and made an abrupt departure. Bobby hardly noticed. He went from following one scrub-clad figure to another, still numb. The nurse helped him into a paper gown, speaking to him all along. Bobby didn't even bother to listen to the words. He couldn't focus. But her tone was one of comfort.

The nurse had seen the numb disbelief characteristic of the beginning stage of grief before. She told him about how strong the baby was, what a fighter his daughter was. She told him how she had even managed to cry, which was an accomplishment for a premature baby with immature lungs. She wasn't sure he even heard. She handed him a box of gloves, but he didn't seem to register. She pulled a pair out and handed them to him. "You need to wear a gown and gloves to go into the NICU," she said firmly. "Put these on, Mr. Goren," she said, firmly and clearly, placing them into his hand.

He slipped them on. "Are you ready to meet you daughter, Mr. Goren?" she asked. "Mr. Goren?" she repeated. She wasn't taking him in there until she got an answer.

"Yes," he answered. He followed the woman over to a plastic bassinet. A pink card was on the end, stating: Baby Girl Goren. _She needs a name_ , he thought. Then he peered into the bassinet at the tiny human inside.

It took him a moment to identify what he felt as he looked down at his daughter for the first time. _I love her_ , he realized. Just like that. A small part of him had been worried about that for many months now. There had been worries about being able to care for a child properly, of course. But just a tiny part of him had also wondered if he would be able to love the child enough. He had read about parents bonding with their children, but for all his intellect, he couldn't prepare for a purely emotional experience. It just seemed so sudden. Simply looking at the baby had been enough.

He loved her, he needed to protect and care for her. The tiny infant in the bassinet had captured his heart. And though he wouldn't realize it until later, she had also prevented the grief from consuming him.


	8. A Crushing Blow

Alex opened her eyes. She was in an unfamiliar room; a hospital room. She hardly noticed the figure leave the room to go and get someone. The next thing she knew, two men were standing by her bed.

"US Marshalls," the first one said. They held up their badges.

"Marshalls?" she asked. "What… why are you here?"

"We were brought in when inmate Boyd escaped," the first one replied.

"Boyd escaped?" Alex asked.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "Until a time when he can be recaptured, you are to remain in protective custody."

"Witness protection?" Alex echoed blankly. "But I didn't witness anything. I want to go home…Where's Bobby?" she asked suddenly. "Where's my baby?"

The two men exchanged glances. "I'm sorry ma'am," the first man said stiffly. "But the infant was stillborn."

 _Why isn't my baby crying?_ Alex pressed a fist against her lips to prevent any sound from escaping. Tears filled her eyes. The two men looked away, looking uncomfortable and… _bored_ , but she didn't care what they thought of her. Assholes. She took a steadying breath. "And Bobby?"

"Ma'am, it appears that when inmate Boyd escaped, he came looking for you."

"I don't care about Boyd," she snarled. "I asked where Bobby was."

"Instead of finding you, he found your husband," the first explained bluntly.

"What?" she asked. "Are you saying… that he's… not coming?"

"He won't be coming," the first confirmed.

"Get _out_ ," she hissed.

"Ma'am-"

"GET OUT!" she screamed.

The two willingly fled her room. "I hate when they get like that," the first man said to his quiet partner. The silent one nodded. Outside of the woman's range of hearing, they spoke quietly to each other, no one else hearing.

"Why is it that we're telling her they're dead?" the first asked.

"It's easier to hide her then all of them," the quieter one replied.

"Seems inhumane," the first said unconcernedly.

The other shrugged. "It's cheaper too. Do you know how much babies cost? He gets to keep the kid, she gets to keep her life… seems fine to me."

"Money's that tight?" The other shrugged again. "I guess," the first said.

The two walked away, leaving the hospital staff to deal with the grief-stricken woman. Their job was done.

The quieter man walked just a step behind the other man, so no one saw his face. A small smile crept upon his features. He was glad that he had ended up with this particular partner. It made everything much easier. Emotions were not something someone with an antisocial personality could understand… but money? The explanation was accepted easily, since the other man couldn't care less.

 

"Remind me why I'm not just supposed to kill her?"

"I said I would destroy her. Not kill."

"Dead seems pretty destroyed to me."

"This just shows how little you know. People fear death, yes, but the end of life involves the end of fear. It would be so much better, don't you think, to take everything away? She might even finish the job for us. Then we could never be prosecuted for her death. And she would be finished then."

"I thought you wanted to destroy, not kill?"

"Taking one's own life signifies the end of hope, the end of the will to live. Someone's spirit must be crushed so completely that it overcomes instinct – the drive to go on, to live. I think that would count as pretty destroyed."

"Then why did you want the other one dead? Why not kill his fiancée instead?"

"Killing one instills fear in the other. I enjoy killing, but fear… It's delicious."

"Right… So it didn't matter which one was killed, then?"

"This was better. He was of no consequence, in the end."

"They both needed to be punished."

"Yes."

"Then why was he of no consequence?"

"He lost his life – the way of destruction for him. They must lose everything."

 

Bobby's cell phone had started ringing. Since it was a hospital, he knew better than to answer in the NICU. He reluctantly left his tiny daughter's bassinet, and made his way outside. People glared at him on his way by, with the cell phone ringing shrilly, but he didn't really care. The caller was very insistent, hanging up only to call immediately back.

When he reached the front doors and made his way outside, he answered.

"Bobby?" the voice asked. For a split second, Bobby thought it was Alex. Then he realized it was her mother. "Bobby, I stopped by the apartment with the blankets I'd promised, and no one is here! Did Alex go into labour? Why didn't you call me? You were supposed to call!"

"There wasn't any time," Bobby replied tonelessly.

"Oh, well," she said, not impressed, but knowing that something was wrong. "Well, you should have called when you got to the hospital! I wanted to be there. Alex wanted me to be there. I suppose if you've answered, it's all over then, is it?"

"It's over," Bobby repeated.

"Humph," she said disapprovingly. "How's she doing?"

Bobby didn't answer. He thought this wasn't the type of news to deliver over the phone, but his usually keen mind was still in a state of numbness, and he wasn't sure how to steer the conversation in the proper direction.

"Bobby? Are you there?"

"Yes," he replied.

"What hospital are you at?" she asked. "I want to come. I need to see my daughter." Her words were coming more quickly, in the fashion of someone who knows something is wrong, but unrealistically hopes that if they keep talking they won't have their fears confirmed. "I want to meet my grandchild."

Bobby latched onto that. "You were right," he said. "It's a girl."

Penny made a noise of delight on the other end of the line. "So everything is okay?" she asked, worried about the tone of Bobby's voice.

"Baby's in the NICU," Bobby answered. "They think she'll be fine."

"Good, that's good," Penny said.

"Right," Bobby agreed.

"So, what hospital?" Penny asked again. "I want to see them." Bobby told her, careful not to correct her assumption, but also careful to not out rightly lie. "Okay, thanks," Penny said quickly. "Tell Alex I'm on my way, alright?" she asked hopefully.

"I'll meet you by the front doors," Bobby answered.

"No, no, stay with Alex," Penny countered, the keen edge of fear in her tone. "I'll find my own way."

"I'll see you when you get here."

"Everything's okay, isn't it?" Penny asked worriedly, finally giving up on indirectly trying finding out what she wanted to know.

"Let's talk when you get here," Bobby said instead. "Drive carefully."

Penny didn't answer. She simply hung up, clinging to the hope that Bobby was simply in a state of shock at the idea of being a new parent. Bobby knew that she suspected, but hoped that not knowing for sure would keep her safe driving over. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, trying not to think, trying not to feel.

 

"Penny," Bobby greeted.

"Bobby, what is going on?" she demanded, not even bothering with pleasantries.

"Penny, come over here," he said, trying to put a variance into his voice. It sounded the same way he felt. Hollow, expressionless, empty. Dead. "Sit down."

"No," she insisted, her voice breaking at the end. "First you need to tell me what's going on."

Bobby released the breath he had been holding in a long sigh. There was no avoiding it any more. The words would leave his mouth, the truth of the matter no longer deniable one he'd spoken them out loud, once someone else knew. Then it would be real.

How to phrase it correctly? He had delivered this kind of news to family members many times before. But professional detachment seemed improper and likely beyond him at this moment anyway. How to put it gently? Impossible. This news would be a crushing blow no matter what; perhaps it even seemed right to simply state it as thus.

"Alex is dead."

There was a long drawn out silence. Such a cruel knowledge, the death of a child, coming without preamble, taking her by surprise, the explanation over in three words, so fast she felt as though she might have missed it.

"What?"

"They did everything they could," Bobby explained, repeating the doctor's exact words as though using another's words would make what he was saying easier to bear. "But there was excessive blood loss."

"What are you saying?" she demanded, her voice breaking.

"I'm sorry," Bobby said automatically.

His mother-in-law collapse into his arms, and Bobby supported her while staring straight ahead. People moved around the two of them, used to this display of grief or possibly caught up in their own.

 

Bobby stood next to the baby's crib, looking down. The fact that Alex wasn't there cut to the core of him like a white-hot knife. He had told them, they didn't know Alex like he did. She had survived so much. She had been in many dangerous situations. Even now, there was a psychopath intending to hunt her down and kill her. How could she have survived all that, only to die in a situation that millions of women went through with no problem?

She had already delivered another baby without complications, when her nephew was born. How could she have died having a baby? It didn't make any sense. He couldn't accept it. How could she survive dangerous situations with hardened criminals, only to die giving birth?

The baby shifted, bringing Bobby's attention back to the small form in the crib. This baby was all he had left now. This baby was who Alex had died for. He had resented that fact only until his eyes fell onto the baby for the first time. He had felt nothing but love and protectiveness from the first moment he held his child in his arms. No, he didn't blame the baby. This baby was now his entire world.

Deciding that standing by the crib was not close enough, he reached in to pick the baby up. Only cradling the tiny infant against his chest, with their beating hearts separated only by flesh, bone, and flimsy fabric, could he have the baby close enough.

Bobby settled into the rocking chair in the corner of the room, cradling his infant daughter in his arms. "Hello, baby girl," he whispered to her. _Baby Girl Goren_. She needed a name. But all of the names he and Alex had discussed… how did he pick one without her?

She had wanted to see the baby before picking a name. And now she never would meet their daughter. Bobby glanced around the room, set up just as he had left it. He recalled her joking about how it was bad luck to have too much ready before the baby was born.

 _Are you saying it's my fault if we have bad luck?_ He had been joking then. But he felt the guilt wash over him all the same. There must have been something he could have done to avoid this. Something he could have done to prevent Alex's death. He cuddled the tiny infant closer. He vowed that he would do his best by her. He would never let anything happen to her.


	9. Separation Anxiety

_**March 2009** _

Bobby had fashioned a sling to carry the baby around in. He hated to set her down; hated to be separated from her even by the distance of her cradle to the living room. He had been warned about babies getting too used to being held and then not sleeping on their own anymore, but he had brushed it aside. Why should he want her separated from him, ever?

He only ever settled her into the cradle at night, for the few hours he slept. Even then, the cradle Penny had brought in order to avoid dragging the larger crib into the bedroom remained pressed right against his side of the bed, where one hand could easily reach in and comfort her if she cried.

Currently, his mother-in-law was asleep on the couch. Bobby trailed a blanket over her, tucking it in around her. Penny had basically moved into the apartment in the last three days since the baby had come home. Bobby was grateful. After the baby had been released from the hospital, Bobby had brought her home, only to realize that he had nothing to feed her with. Having virtually no knowledge of what formula to get, and his brain already both sleep-deprived and grief-numbed, he had turned up on Penny's doorstep. "Help," he had begged. And she had. Bobby thought that helping with the baby might have been therapeutic for her as well.

But now he thought he had enough of a handle on what to do that he could manage on his own. In any case, Penny was clearly exhausted. Learning what he needed to take care of the baby had been keeping him from letting go completely and sinking into his grief. Only at night, when the baby was sleeping and he was trying to, did his entire being become consumed with Alex's loss.

One arm cradling the infant in spite of the makeshift sling, the other hand reached for the documents he had taken home from the hospital. Among them was his infant daughter's birth certificate.

Before leaving the hospital, they had wanted him to fill out all the necessary paperwork. He could hardly leave the baby nameless.

_His eyes were fixed on the card still attached to the infant's bassinet. Baby Girl Goren. "She needs a name," one of the nurses had said. Bobby knew that. But what should he call her? How could he choose a name for their baby with Alex missing?_

_"What names were you thinking of?"_

_Bobby looked up to meet the kind, dark eyes. "Alex," he began, about to explain how she had wanted to see the baby first. But his throat closed up, making speaking difficult._

_"Alexandra?" she asked._

_He nodded in confirmation._

_"Is that the name you've decided on?" she asked._

_Bobby nodded again. Why not? Why not give her the name of the person he wanted here now more than any other? He could hardly think straight anyway._

 

_**April 2009** _

"Dude, I'm going to be honest, this is a little bit awkward."

"What is?" Bobby asked, taking the diaper bag back from his friend and pulling it carefully on to his shoulder so that it wouldn't swing forward and jostle Alexandra in the infant carrier.

"Well," Lewis replied, "People might think we're… you know… a couple."

Bobby raised his eyebrows. "You don't think there's any other reason for two men and a baby to be walking through Central Park together?" he asked.

"Look, I don't want to be offensive or anything," Lewis said awkwardly.

"No?" Bobby returned. "You sure you don't want to hold hands or anything?" At the shocked look on his friend's face, Bobby chuckled softly.

"You're not uncomfortable with it?" Lewis asked.

"No," Bobby replied honestly. "I really don't care what anyone thinks. Besides, you can just start flirting with the nannies when we get to the park, and then everything will be clear."

Lewis grinned, more to do with the fact that Bobby had actually come out of his misery enough to tease him than for any other reason. The baby made a small gurgling sound, and the two men were instantly focussed on her, both of them smiling adoringly at the tiny human who'd captured their hearts.

"Is my little sweetheart awake?" Lewis asked in a sing-song voice. The baby's eyes opened wide, searching for the face belonging to the familiar voice. "She is!" Lewis squawked. "There's my precious angel!"

"You're probably not helping your case here," Bobby said, in reference to Lewis practically hanging off his arm to get a good view of his goddaughter.

"People can think what they want," Lewis replied, grinning. Neither man had taken their eyes off of the baby. "Little Alex is too cute for words."

Lewis's casual statement had a remarkable effect on Bobby, who turned his head away to hide his expression. "Alexandra," he corrected, lengthening his stride.

Something he hadn't anticipated when he had simply agreed to giving the name Alexandra to his daughter was how quickly just hearing those two syllables could pull him back into his grief. Alex… and just like that, he was awash in memories that hit him like a speeding train.

The entire Eames family had already announced that the newest addition to the family looked just like her mother. Bobby had seen Alex's baby pictures in John and Penny's house, and could see the remarkable resemblance himself. But he wanted to learn to love this infant for herself, not just for who her mother had been. He didn't yet realize that he already did.

"Bobby," Lewis said, jogging to catch up to his friend with the longer legs. Bobby's mind was pulled back to the present. "No one's ever going to call her by her full name," Lewis said gently. "It's kind of a mouthful."

Bobby ignored him, settling down onto a park bench and dumping the diaper bag to the ground. He took a deep, steadying breath. "Do you want to hold her?"

"Sure," Lewis replied, taking Alexandra from her father's arms. He knew Bobby was trying to distract him, but he let it slide. "Hello, darling," he said, grinning at the infant.

Bobby watched his friend rock his daughter, talking to her all the while in a high-pitched excited voice for a short while before Bobby wordlessly held his arms out. Lewis quickly handed the baby back. Bobby was nothing if not completely devoted to and rather over-protective of his child. He could feel his nerves beginning to fray after having his daughter away for more than five minutes – less, if he couldn't see her either.

"Are you going back to work soon?" Lewis asked.

After satisfying himself for the hundredth time that morning that Alexandra was okay, Bobby looked back up at Lewis. "I suppose," he replied.

It was probably the most unenthusiastic response Bobby had ever given to a question about work. He loved his job. But returning to work meant facing memories of Alex and everything that had happened in the past few months. More than that – it meant leaving the baby for the entire day.

"The captain said I could take as much time as I need," Bobby hedged, not bothering to add that the captain was probably relieved to have Bobby out of his hair for the time being.

"Yeah, but I know you," Lewis said, hoping to bring a spark back into his friend's eyes. "You need to be solving some kind of mystery. You can't be away from work for too long – it makes you stir-crazy."

"The baby needs me," Bobby said stubbornly.

"She'll always need you," Lewis returned. "You can't just never go back to work."

Bobby sighed heavily, grief seeming to settle on his shoulders and weigh him down. "I suppose," he said for the second time.

"Well," Lewis added guiltily, "No need to worry about that yet."

They were quiet for a time, before a toddler ran head-long into Lewis's leg, causing the child's nanny to apologize profusely and presenting Lewis with the opportunity to chat her up.

Bobby looked on with a hint of amusement for a short time before returning his attention to the baby. He jumped as a woman flopped down on the bench next to him, pulling a young boy into her lap and tying one of his shoelaces before he launched himself out of her arms towards the slide.

"Phew, he can be a handful," she laughed. Bobby offered a smile before returning his gaze to his daughter.

The woman followed his gaze, smiling as she saw the baby. "What a cutie!" she gushed. "What's her name?"

"Alexandra," he replied.

The woman smiled. "Hello there, Alexandra," she cooed. "Hello, little Lexie." She jumped up suddenly, calling after the boy whose laces she had just tied who was attempting to climb up the slide and was about to be mowed down by a larger boy.

"That's not such a mouthful, is it?" he murmured. "Lexie," he said, testing the name. "Lexie."

 

_**May 2009** _

Bobby was eating dinner with John and Penny. They insisted on having him and Lexie over at least once every two weeks, and would likely rather have them over more often if they had their way. Bobby and the baby had become a special charge of Alex's parents. But that was soon going to change.

"I'm going to have to start interviewing nannies," Bobby said, more thinking aloud than anything.

"You'll do no such thing!" Penny said, outraged.

"I've got to," Bobby said, surprised by her reaction. "I'll have to go back to work soon, and I can't take Lexie with me."

Penny and John exchanged glances, communicating silently. "You'll leave her with us," Penny said, her tone inviting no arguments.

"Oh," Bobby said, surprised. The thought hadn't even occurred to him. He had never really had anyone to rely on before. "Well, I work five days a week, sometimes more, if I need to for a case. I can't ask you to take care of her that often."

"You're not asking," John responded. "We're offering. In fact, I think my wife might consider it an insult if you do end up hiring a nanny," he said, amused.

"We've raised three of our own children, and helped out with the grandkids plenty," Penny informed him quickly. "She'll be fine with us. Won't you, Lexie?" she asked her granddaughter in a sing-song voice.

"Well," Bobby hedged, "I really don't want to put any extra pressure one you."

"In what way is getting to see my granddaughter almost every day an extra pressure?" Penny demanded. "I think it's the perfect solution, don't you?" she asked her husband.

"I wouldn't argue even if I didn't agree," John replied mischievously.

"Oh, you," Penny snapped, swatting his arm. The obvious fondness in her gaze belied her tone. She got up and lifted Lexie into her arms smiling. "Well, I guess it's all settled then."

Bobby also got up and took his daughter back from Penny. While her enthusiasm was appreciated, he wanted to be sure that she understood that he was quite capable of looking after Lexie now. Still, he appreciated their offer, and couldn't deny that it took a weight off of his mind.

 

_**June 2009** _

Bobby circled around for the third time. "You're sure you've got everything?" he asked.

"We're sure," Penny replied.

"You've got my cell phone number and the line in MCS, just in case?" he repeated.

"Yes, we do," John confirmed.

"I can't see why I wouldn't answer, but you have both the captain's line and Lewis's too?"

"Yes," Penny agreed.

"And the number for the GP? But I want you to call me too if she gets sick," he instructed.

"Yes, Bobby, we've been over this," Penny reminded him.

"I just want to make sure," he said.

"Of course," Penny agreed, hiding her exasperation for the sake of his understandable worries.

"I'll call at lunch," Bobby reminded them. "And if you need me to come home then for any reason, I'll be back. I already talked to the captain and he said I could start with a half day if I need to."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Penny said. When it looked like he was going to add something else, she began ushering him to the door, saying pointedly, "We'll talk to you at lunch Bobby. Goodbye."

Bobby left, taking a deep breath and began walking away. He had only been gone for about five minutes before he was back, banging on the front door.

"Bobby?" Penny asked when she answered.

"No, I've changed my mind," he said quickly. "I'm not going back yet, Lexie's really too young and I just really can't," he continued, all in one breath. He reached out to take the baby back from her, and Penny released her hold, if only to calm his nerves.

"Bobby," she said gently, "It's going to be hard to go back to work and be away from Lexie. But you're going to have to do it," she added. "I know it's hard. And she is very young. But she's well cared for here, and you'll be back before you know it."

Calmed by the weight of his daughter in his arms, Bobby considered her words. Then he considered the thought of facing everyone's awkward avoidance or offers of condolences, and he shuddered. But if he wanted to keep his job, he would have to face it at some point.

Taking another deep breath, and holding Lexie close for another moment, he composed himself. He handed the baby back to Penny. "I'll talk to you at noon," he said.

Penny smiled encouragingly. "Yes," she agreed. She stood in the doorway with the baby until he was out of sight. "Your Daddy has a bad case of separation anxiety," she told the infant. "Worse than you do!" Lexie had handled being passed around very well, not crying out at all. Then again, she was a remarkably content baby most of the time. "I don't blame him though," Penny continued her monologue. "I miss your Mommy too."


	10. Marion

_**June, 2009** _

Alex sat alone in the dark and silence. She left the house to go to work, because she had to, but then she came immediately home. The past months were more difficult than she could have ever imagined.

The cover story was that Marion Jones had been in a car crash that killed her husband, and had since moved away to escape the painful memories. Marion had no siblings, and her parents had died. Alex shuddered at the thought. Her parents were alive and well. Would she ever see them again?

And then, of course, there was the loss of Bobby. How could he be gone? It had been so sudden. One moment she had been having an emergency C-section, the next, she had woken up in a hospital far away and been told that not only was her baby stillborn, but Bobby had been killed.

For the most part, Alex kept to herself. She didn't communicate with the other people at work any more often than she had to. She worked as a receptionist for a law firm, which was not something she particularly liked, but wasn't something that she detested either. Not that it really mattered; she didn't take pleasure in anything since the move. Since the move – her own way of avoiding thoughts like _since he died._

There was a man who worked for Fed-ex who delivered to the law firm fairly regularly who tried to talk to her. Tom, she recalled. He had inquired after her family last time she saw him, and she had simply replied shortly with, "My husband is dead."

She almost felt guilty at the way he had paled and stuttered out an apology. Then, to her great surprise, he had told her that he had recently lost his partner of five years. It was her turn to try and offer an apology. After that awkwardness was over, he had told her about a grief support group that he attended. "Come if you ever want to talk," he'd offered.

She pulled the folded piece of paper on which he'd scribbled out the time and location of the group. She had leaned on a friend after Joe died, but here she had no one. Maybe it would help to go. She could try it once, and then she could always leave and not go back.

 

_**August 2009** _

"I still miss Sam every day," Tom said. "I know it's been six months, but there's not a day that passes that I don't think of that loss. Not only to me, but for Lucas."

In the month since Alex had started coming to the group, which met once a week, she had learned that Tom and Sam had a son. The boy was about a year old now, and Alex had seen the pictures that Tom was eager to show off proudly to anyone who expressed an interest.

The group was nodding in understanding to Tom's words. They all could identify with the feeling.

"It must have been hard to lose Sam so suddenly like that," a woman named Trisha sympathized.

"It's hard to lose someone slowly too," an older man said.

Trisha nodded in agreement, and the man began to describe the helplessness he'd felt watching his wife of forty-five years succumb to kidney disease. Then Trisha added how she could identify with the helplessness of watching a relative die, as she had with her sister's cancer.

"I always felt guilty that she was sick and I was healthy," Trisha continued.

"There's nothing you could have done," another woman offered in an attempt at comforting her.

"I know that, but I still felt terrible for being healthy when she was dying."

Alex nodded. "I felt the same way when my husband died."

The eyes of the group turned to her. It was the first time she had spoken up since introducing herself and giving a brief description of what brought her there.

"You couldn't control what happened either," Tom was quick to put in.

"I can't help but think how it was supposed to be me," Alex expressed, clenching her hands.

"You can't help that the other car pulled into your lane," Tom said earnestly. For a moment, Alex was confused, before she remembered her cover story. She felt more like herself with Tom than anyone else, and had temporarily forgotten that she was Marion Jones since the move. She would have to be careful with remembering her cover story. But how could anyone in the group know that it was much more complicated than a car crash? Boyd really had been after her – it really was her fault that Bobby was killed.

She fell silent, staring into her lap until she could regain control. "It's natural to feel some survivor's guilt, Marion," the group facilitator said, looking to her but really addressing this statement to the group at large. "With time, you'll all come to realize that your loved one's death wasn't you fault."

Alex was highly doubtful of that. But still she knew that it was too late to do anything about it now. Bobby was gone.

 

_**September 2009** _

Alex woke up to Lucas blowing a raspberry in her face. She had been dropping Tom off after group for a few weeks now, to save him the trouble of taking public transit, and he had invited her in last night. They had ended up talking late into the night, and so Tom had asked her to stay.

According to him, the baby had recently started trying to climb out of his crib, so he had removed one of the sides, thinking that a drop to the floor from that level would be safer than if he ever managed to climb the bars and topple over them. As a result, Lucas could get out of bed as soon as he was awake.

"Hello there little fellow," she greeted him softly. He gave her his baby grin in response. Alex was pleased that he seemed to be starting to recognize her. She sat up and swung her legs down, lifting the boy off of the floor and carrying him into the kitchen where she started water boiling for coffee. Tom only had instant, which was a real shame in Alex's opinion.

The baby had grabbed a handful of her hair and was squealing delightedly. As she worked her hair free from Lucas's chubby fist, she tried to imagine how different her life would be right now if her baby had lived. Her child would have been about six months old by now.

But what was the point in imagining? The baby was no more alive than Bobby was. Alex contemplated the little boy settled on her hip, and wondered if Lucas had in any way eased Tom's loss of Sam. The baby was certainly a delight, and probably took up a lot of his father's time, but she wasn't sure that having a baby now would have made the loss of her husband any easier to bear. Still, thinking of the baby she had lost had her examining the one perched on her hip wistfully.

"Marion?"

Tom was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching her. She had no idea how long he'd been standing there, or for that matter, how long she'd been lost in thought. The kettle was whistling and she pulled the plug from the socket.

"Hi," Alex said quickly, trying to cover up her embarrassment at him catching her lost in her contemplations. "Lucas came over to the couch, so I just took him in here with me," Alex explained, handing him hurriedly back over to his father as though she'd been caught doing something wrong. "I boiled water for coffee."

"Thanks," Tom replied, settling Lucas into a more comfortable position. "I hope he didn't wake you."

"No," Alex lied. "I was up already."

Tom walked over and leaned on the counter, watching Alex with concern wrinkling his brow. "Marion," he began hesitantly, "I hope you don't think I'm intruding, and please don't feel you have to answer. But, the way you were looking at Lucas just now…" he let his sentence trail off as Alex bit her lip. "Just forget I said anything," he said, changing his mind.

"No, it's all right," Alex said. "There's something I haven't mentioned in the group." She looked down and directed the next statement to her feet. "When the car crashed… I was pregnant at the time."

"Oh, Marion," Tom gasped. "I'm so sorry."

Alex nodded, not daring to speak. The boiled water forgotten, Tom slipped Lucas into his high chair before returning to Alex, wrapping his arms around her. She leaned into his chest, and for the first time, allowed herself to openly grieve for both losses. She took what comfort she could from Tom's strong arms wrapped around her, and buried her face in his chest.

He held her and stroked her hair with one hand until she had quieted. "Sorry," she said as soon as she could speak.

"Don't apologize," he instructed. "Let it out, sweetheart. You can't keep it all in. Trust me. When Sam died I cried my heart out every day for a long time."

"Does anything help?" Alex asked.

"Time helps," Tom said. "I wouldn't say it 'heals all wounds' but eventually you start to move on, because you've got to I suppose. Keeping busy helps too. And having people to lean on. Like the others in the group… and especially, since we've become friends."

Alex had been mopping her face up with her sleeve while he spoke, and after he finished, she offered a tentative smile. He returned it with his own warm smile.

Just then, Lucas banged a fist into the tray of his high chair, squalling with displeasure at being denied his breakfast for so long. Tom chuckled and started opening cupboards to get their breakfast ready, Alex taking one last swipe at her eyes before helping him out.

 

_**December 2009** _

"You're sure I'm not intruding?" Alex asked for the third time.

"Of course not," Tom replied. "I'll be glad of your company." He stepped back to allow her in. Lucas came toddling around the corner on unsteady but speedy legs, laughing delightedly when he saw her. Alex swept him off the ground before he could fall, lifting him into the air and giving him a quick hug before he squirmed to get down.

The two adults watched him careen around the corner again, babbling away. "He has too much energy," Tom said fondly. "Come on in," he added, taking her coat.

"Thanks," she said.

She was grateful that Tom had invited her to come over on Christmas Day. She had been alone in her misery that morning, and was glad to have the distraction now. She suspected that Tom might feel the same way. It was also his first Christmas without Sam.

Alex had seen a photo of the family of three on Christmas the previous year, Lucas just a tiny infant in his father's arms. Sam's arm was wrapped around Tom's shoulders, and they were both smiling at the camera, the Christmas tree lights twinkling merrily behind them.

Alex reflected on what she had been doing the previous year. She and Bobby had spent Christmas morning alone together before heading over to join the extended Eames family at her parent's place that afternoon.

Alex had settled down on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa that Tom had handed her. He also sat down with his own mug. "You're not heading back to visit any other family this year?" Tom asked.

"No other family to visit," Alex replied, taking a sip of her drink to avoid him reading her expression. "You're not visiting anyone else either?"

"No," Tom answered. "I haven't spoken to my parents since I moved out. My brother lives too far away, and that's pretty much it for family."

"What about Sam's family?" Alex asked.

"Sam's parents used to come and visit, back before…" he trailed off frowning. "Well, not in nearly a year now."

"Don't they want to see their grandson?" Alex asked curiously.

"They used to at least seem to take an interest in him before," Tom replied. "But I suppose they think that since we adopted Lucas, they don't really have a connection to him since Sam died."

"Some people take blood too seriously," she said.

"I agree," said Tom, nodding. "We may not share any DNA, but Lucas _is_ my son."

"Dada?" the subject of their conversation inquired, seeming to be confirming Tom's own statement. The child pointed to the presents under the tree, dancing with excitement.

"Is it time to open the presents, buddy?" Tom asked.

Lucas squealed happily and toddled back over to the tree. Pouring all of her concentration into her friend and his son, Alex almost managed to feel a bit of the joy of the Christmas season. But there would be no escaping her memories that night. Alone in the dark; she would later cry herself to sleep.


	11. False Sense of Security

_**December 2009** _

Bobby removed a thoroughly bundled Lexie from her car seat and began stripping some of her layers as soon as he entered the Eames house. The sound of many voices talking and laughing echoed through the entranceway.

"Bobby!"

He looked up to see Penny coming around the corner, beaming. "And Lexie," she cooed.

"Here's the diaper bag," Bobby said, taking it off and pushing it towards Penny. "She's got extra sleepers in there, along with lots of formula, bottles, diapers, bibs, a few favourite toys…"

"In short, the usual," Penny interrupted. "Why are you telling me for?"

"Well… so you know," Bobby said, confused. "So you know what you've got for the day. What time should I pick her up?"

"What? You're just going to drop her off and go?" Penny asked, her smile fading.

"Well, yes," Bobby replied. "This is a time for family, and you were so insistent on having her here, and I suppose that she should be with her extended family… I got the morning with her, and Christmas Eve, and-"

"What, are we divorced?" Penny asked with a hint of amusement.

"Hey!" John Eames called, coming in behind Penny. "Who else are you married to?" he teased.

"Bobby was going to drop Lexie and go!" Penny informed John. "He's talking like we're discussing custody," she said accusingly.

"Bobby," John sighed, shaking his head.

Bobby was very confused now. "I don't understand," he said honestly.

"Son, we want you to stay," John stated.

The thought hadn't even occurred to him. He had been warring all day with thoughts of wanting to keep his daughter to himself over Christmas, before deciding that he was being selfish. He had never considered staying at the Eames family Christmas with her. Without Alex, how was he to know that they'd assumed he realized he was automatically invited?

Seeming to read his thoughts, John said, "Bobby, when you married Alex you became a part of this family. Lexie only cements it now."

"You'll come in and celebrate with us!" Penny insisted. She suddenly flushed, remembering a conversation she had had with her husband recently. "If you want to, of course," she amended. "I know I have a habit of being too pushy."

"I… well… of course," Bobby stammered.

"Good!" Penny exclaimed, unable to resist her natural inclinations any longer. Get your coat off and get in here. I have some fruit cake I want you to sample. By the way," she tossed over her shoulder, "Liz said that Nathan's looking forward to seeing his cousin." Her voice carried into the entranceway even after she had started back into the other room. "He knows that he's not getting any brothers or sisters and…" Her voice was lost in the hubbub of the large group of people.

"She can't help herself," John explained, smiling fondly. "She's in her element at big family gatherings." He reached down and picked Lexie up, tickling her belly. Bobby followed them in, taking steadying breaths. This was the first Christmas without Alex.

Though he had to leave on more than one occasion to get a handle on his emotions, Bobby managed to make it through the entire evening. He missed Alex more than words could say. But he had Lexie to think of, and she grounded him.

 

It was amazing how Bobby still wasn't used to coming home to an empty house. He still expected Alex to come around the corner at any moment. He had gotten used to her presence so quickly… But her absence was something he couldn't adjust to so easily.

Nine-month-old Lexie, exhausted after the bustle of the day, hardly stirred as Bobby lowered her into the crib in her room. She had outgrown the tiny cradle, really more fit for a doll than a baby, a while ago, so Bobby had finally moved her into the yellow and green nursery. Bobby pulled one of Penny's hand knitted blankets over her and stood staring down for a short time.

Finally he turned away, switching the night light on and the bedroom light off. Lexie's chest rose and fell in the dim light, one little hand curling and uncurling in her sleep. Bobby left, closing the door not quite all the way. He wandered back into the living area, flopping on the couch. He flicked half-heartedly through a few channels on the television before switching it off.

He got up and began to wander aimlessly, his brain as it so often did flicking through memories of Alex like a film on fast-forward. He closed his eyes and rubbed them vigorously, but the images remained. He went into the kitchen and threw open the fridge door, searching for something in there with alcohol content.

Though he never drank himself into a stupor when he was alone with Lexie, this night called for something to numb the pain. He flopped back onto the couch and took a drink, reminding himself that when he closed his eyes, the Alex talking and laughing besides him was just a memory.

 

"When are we going to act?"

"When I see fit to do so."

"And when is that going to be? It's been nine fucking months!"

"Patience, patience…"

"Why should I have patience? What's the point in waiting?"

"The point is to lull them into a false sense of security. Then, we will act. It will be like a recurring nightmare. Each time they begin to recover, I will make sure that they never live a normal life again."

"But how long are you going to wait?"

"I will tell you when the time is right. Do not question me. I am in charge."

The other man was not pleased, but he knew perfectly well that he was certainly not in charge.

 

**_January 2010_ **

Bobby woke early, as he did every morning. He had spent New Year's Eve with Mike, Lewis, and Lexie. The three men had enjoyed each other's company, and that of the baby who had crawled all over them, bringing a smile to their faces before she eventually fell asleep.

Bobby could see Mike snoring gently on the couch in the living room as he went to boil water for his morning tea. Lewis was sleeping on a cot in Lexie's room. As Bobby wandered through the living room to have a look out the window, he noticed an envelope lying by the door.

Frowning, Bobby went over to get it. It appeared to have been shoved under the door. Heart hammering, he dug a finger into the flap, tearing it open. Inside was a photograph of him in the park, placing Lexie into one of the baby swings. It was clear by the trees in the background that the picture had been taken in autumn. He recognized the handwriting underneath, proclaiming simply: _Happy New Year._

"BOYD!" Bobby exploded; checking the locks and chains on the door even though he knew there was no way Boyd was inside his apartment. His cry had woken Mike, who rolled rather ungracefully off of the couch and stumbled to his feet.

"Bobby?" he asked. "What is it?"

Bobby shoved the photograph at him without a word, marching straight into Lexie's room and picked her up. When he returned to the living room with his daughter, Mike was scrutinizing the photograph with a frown.

"It's Boyd's handwriting," Bobby informed him.

"How can you be sure?" Mike asked.

"Because I've read the case file so many times, and reviewed all the evidence, including all of Boyd's handwritten records that he kept of all of his victims," Bobby replied. "And leaving a photograph – that was what he did with… That's what he did before!"

"This is hardly threatening though," Mike began.

"Do you think so?" Bobby hissed. "Do you really think this is a friendly greeting? Just the kind of salutation you give when letting someone know your keeping your eye on them? Look at it – that was taken months ago!"

"What's he mean just with Happy New Year?" Mike asked.

"He knows damn well that this isn't a happy year!" Bobby roared. Lexie, who had been sniffling and whimpering up until that point, burst into loud wails. But for once, Bobby was less than attentive to her cries. The hand that wasn't holding her waved around in vicious gesticulations as he continued. "He's reminding me that he hasn't forgotten. I only wish I knew who his accomplice was, because he can't have been delivering it himself from prison…"

Bobby stopped yelling and faced Mike, who hadn't said anything, but was looking distinctly guilty. "What?" he demanded.

"Bobby, please try and stay calm, okay?"

But Bobby was so agitated at this point he could only glare and demand over Lexie's screams, "What. _Happened_?"

Before Mike could answer, Lewis walked out of Lexie's room, bleary eyed. "What's going on?"

"It's Boyd," Bobby spat through gritted teeth.

"The one that-"

"Yes."

Bobby glowered at Mike until he finally answered, "He escaped from prison."

"When?"

Mike looked around uncomfortably before taking a deep breath. "When he was being transferred to the prison after his sentencing," he said, and waited for the storm of Bobby's rage to wash over him.

"But," Bobby began uncomprehendingly, "But that was months ago." Then louder, and angrier. "That was _months_ ago, Mike! Why wasn't I told?"

"We were looking for him, Bobby," Mike hastened to explain. "And you already had so much to deal with, and the captain thought it was best-"

"THE CAPTAIN THOUGHT IT WAS BEST?" Mike winced as though Bobby had hit him. " _You_ should have TOLD ME!" Bobby thundered. "WHAT IF HE HAD COME AFTER LEXIE?" As his daughter's name passed his lips, Bobby looked down at her and seemed to notice for the first time that she was crying. He rubbed a hand over her back and lowered his voice, though his words were still uttered in a dangerous growl.

"What if he had gone after he while she was with John and Penny? What if Boyd had slaughtered them all? What would you have said then, Mike? Would you have just given me the bullshit of _the captain thought it was best_?"

"He only threatened Alex and her partner, we didn't think he'd care about the rest of you once she was gone," Mike responded, his explanation cutting, but quick. He had truly thought that he was doing what was best. Bobby flinched, but remained silent, processing this information.

Without another word, he turned and plopped Lexie into Lewis's arms. "Watch her, will you?" he asked.

"Of course I will," he said, but he wasn't sure Bobby even heard.

"You know where the lockbox is?" Bobby asked. At Lewis's nod, Bobby gave him the combination. "If anyone but me comes in here – shoot them."

"Where are you going?" Mike asked.

"To the lab," Bobby snapped, waving the offending envelope. Mike trotted after him, leaving Lewis standing in the middle of the living room with the still sobbing Lexie.

"Bobby," Mike said. "I'm really sorry. I wouldn't have kept it from you if I thought he'd come after Lexie. I swear I-"

"I know," Bobby snarled. He knew in his heart that Mike had acted with his best interests in mind, but he was much too enraged to consider forgiveness at the moment.


	12. Nightmare

_January 2010_

Alex and Tom were running late. "Sorry again," Tom said. "Sasha's so reliable I've never had to look for another sitter before."

"It's fine," Alex assured him.

They were on their way to the group, and Lucas's baby-sitter had called from a pay phone to say that she'd gotten a flat, and her cell phone battery had died, delaying her from informing them until they usually would have left already. They had decided to take the boy with them, although Tom thought he might have to leave early if Lucas put up a fuss.

Alex pulled the car into the parking lot of the church where the group was taking place that week. Both the adults got out, and Tom had just turned to get Lucas out of the infant seat when a blast sent both him and Alex sprawling to the ground.

Alex looked over from the gravel of the parking lot to the church, coughing, ears ringing. There was smoke billowing from the building, bits of stone and other debris littering the area. "Tom?" Alex asked, coughing.

"Lucas!" Tom cried. But the baby was fine, protected by the car and hardly jarred by the blast.

Alex stood up and made her way shakily to the other side. "You guys okay?" she shouted over the deafness and ringing of her ears.

"Yes!" Tom replied. "And you?"

"Fine!" she answered, nodding. Her nod gave more answer than her word, since they could hardly hear each other.

"What about the others?" he cried, eyes turning to stare, horrified, at the building.

Alex just shook her head. "You've got to get away from here."

"But the others!"

She shook her head again. "Take Lucas out of here," she instructed. "Call the police. I'm going to look for survivors."

"But-"

"Go!" she yelled, indicating the baby clinging to his father's shirt.

With a hopeless sort of nod, Tom shifted his son in his arms and made to walk away. "Be careful, Marion!"

She nodded to show she heard, but she wasn't very hopeful. Shaking, she picked her way carefully inside, watching for signs of more falling debris. She really shouldn't be inside, but she had to make sure. She didn't dare go too far inside, in case the last supports gave way.

But she went far enough in to confirm her fears. Trisha, eyes open and staring, was partly visible beneath stone and wood. The top half of man who had lost his wife to kidney disease was seen in what used to be the corner of the room. His legs must be elsewhere, torn clean off by the explosion. Alex stood on a patch of floor with slightly less debris around, and squinted around until she'd seen enough.

Stumbling back out, Alex looked for Tom and Lucas, and found them at a pay phone across the street. At Tom's questioning look, she shook her head. After they both had a moment to process what had happened, Tom demanded thickly, "Who would even want to blow up a church?"

Alex just shook her head, teeth chattering with more than cold. She, Tom, and Lucas had been standing right outside. If they had gotten there just one minute sooner, they would have been inside the church. And part of her couldn't help but wonder… Was it mere coincidence? _I will destroy you_.

But he was far away, and she was supposed to be dead already. Boyd couldn't have found her. She was being paranoid. Watching the church go up in smoke, the bodies of the few people she had gotten to know and trust inside, she couldn't help but think she was trapped in some sort of never ending nightmare.

 

It took just over a week and all of Alex's persuasive techniques to get one of the investigating detectives to speak with her. She left the precinct feeling hardly any more confident than she had before.

"What did they say?" Tom asked when she informed him that someone had finally talked to her about it.

"Enough for me to know that they're not putting as much effort into it as I'd like," Alex replied.

"What do you mean?" Tom asked. "What exactly did they say?"

Alex hesitated, the detective's words coming back to her. _That particular church has been associated with protests against the death penalty, abortion, and homosexuality, to name a few. We think it might be possible that they've retaliated_. Alex snorted derisively. That 'they' had retaliated. That meant the people working the case didn't even have any clear suspects in mind.

Alex continued to try and side-step Tom's questioning before she finally gave in. "Apparently that particular church had been to some protests and the like."

"Against what?" Tom asked. "Abortions? They think this is some kind of pro-choice attack?"

"Well, that and some other protests too," Alex replied, before quickly changing the subject. "Anyway, the police think that whoever targeted the church might have thought it was empty, not realizing there was a support group happening."

"What other kinds of protests?" Tom asked.

"I guess a lot of the congregation is against the death penalty, and homosexuality," Alex replied. "But I don't see this church being a prime target-"

But Tom was scowling and hardly seemed to be listening. "Oh sure," he snapped. "Why not?"

"It could have been one extremist, I suppose, but-"

"It's prejudice!" Tom snapped. "Damn cops. I don't know what I expected anyway. I never did meet a cop that I liked."

In a different mood, Alex might have had trouble suppressing a smile. Instead, she said, "I'm sure they'll try and find out who did it. They'll turn the investigation elsewhere if they don't turn up any suspects."

"Humph," was all Tom replied with.

Alex was itching to start investigating the explosion herself. But of course, that would be impossible. She had no access to any of the evidence or files. She could do no more than hound the cops who were assigned to the case.

 

_February 2010_

It was time. It had been nearly a year since the move, and Alex had heard nothing of what had happened to Boyd since he escaped. It was time for her to ask her case agents exactly what their investigation had turned up.

She had tried the number one of the Marshall's had given her and had left a message. It had taken two days for them to get back to her, and they only informed her that Boyd had not been recaptured, nor had they received any evidence that he was in the area. Frustrated, she had seriously considered looking into the case herself.

It would take some careful planning, since she no longer had access under her assumed identity. This left her with two options: either to use her real ID in order to gain access to the files, or try and hack in anonymously. Either way had risks. If anyone checked the log in information and saw her ID, she would risk blowing her cover. If she tried to hack into the database, she could risk facing charges.

She wondered if there was a way she could use her cover in order to gain access. She was, after all, a receptionist for a law firm. If she could somehow doctor up a reason to need information about Boyd's case, she might be able to find some information without rousing suspicion.

But it would take a lot of careful planning. Alex wasn't sure what she would find out, or why it was so important now. But a reckless determination had come over her. The next series of losses had put her straight into the anger stage of grief – and she was going to do something. She was sick of sitting around pretending her former life had never happened, sick of playing this game and she was finished with the numbness that had kept her from taking action before now. It was time for her to do something; anything.

The more she thought about it, the more she was determined to take some kind of action. Now that she had a plan, the last of her grief induced numbness was starting to fade. Though she was by no means past the losses that still haunted her, she was ready to start living again.

 

_March 2010_

"She's not reacting as you anticipated."

"What do you mean?"

"Instead of sinking further into depression, she seems to be coming out of it. Some sort of reckless determination. She even called me to ask about you."

"What did you say?"

"That you hadn't been recaptured, and you hadn't been sighted in the area."

"Good, good…"

"So? Are you going to do something about her? She's given up on hounding the cops, and I really think she might try to investigate."

"Send her the photograph."

"But… then she'll know it was you."

"She is already suspicious. Play to her fear now, before she becomes, as you so eloquently put it, even more recklessly determined."

"Fine."

"Keep a close eye on her and report all behaviour and any information she recovers to me. I will be busy over the next few weeks, but you know how to find me if there is an emergency."

 

Alex snatched up the mail and dumped it on a small table in the hallway. She was about to leave when she noticed an envelope among the junk mail. Who would be writing to her? She didn't have any contact with anyone besides those who she knew in the area.

Alex reached out to pick it up with shaking hands, the scene feeling terribly familiar. Inside the envelope was a photograph. She gave a small cry and dropped it back onto the table as though it had burned her hands where she held it.

Her own face looked, horror-struck, at a church going up in flames within the photograph. She was lying on the ground, thrown off her feet by the blast. Though she couldn't see him from the angle of the shot, she knew Tom was on the other side of the vehicle, checking on Lucas.

Breath hitching from the adrenaline pumping through her system, she pulled the photograph out from the envelope completely. Hand-written at the bottom was a greeting that could almost appear as a friendly salutation to an outsider, as though this was all some kind of sick game. Happy Anniversary.

Alex dropped the photograph again, her chest seeming to tighten to such a degree she could hardly breathe. It had been exactly one year since the move. And so the nightmare began anew.


	13. Relapse

_March 2010_

Bobby had finally gotten the hang of e-mail, to which he was very glad in this moment. Alex's sister Liz had sent him the photographs she had taken yesterday at Lexie's first birthday party. He hadn't had a chance to develop the roll of film from the photographs he had taken yet, and was grinning as he scrolled through the pictures while sipping a cup of coffee.

There were John and Penny, standing on either side of Lexie's highchair grinning happily. In the next photo, Nathan helped his little cousin unwrap a gift from Liz and her husband Pete. Lexie grinned at the camera, face covered in cake and icing. In yet another photograph, Lewis swung the baby around, him wearing a party hat, her wearing a cardboard 'Birthday Girl' crown. Liz had even managed to get a snapshot of Bobby himself, attempting valiantly to get the icing off of Lexie's fingers. In the end, he had admitted defeat, and simply taken her straight from the highchair to the sink in the bathroom for a quick scrub.

Even Mike and Carolyn were in a few photographs. Possibly due to the mixture of both time, and the lack of anything else threatening from Boyd, Bobby had forgiven Mike for keeping Boyd's escape from him. Then there had also been the fact that his friend had been so stressed and distraught. Caught in his own misery, Bobby had hardly had a thought to spare for Mike, but had since chastised himself for not realizing how badly Mike had been missing Carolyn.

It had been Bobby who convinced Mike to go after her, and though he had no idea what had transpired during the two weeks Mike was gone, he had returned with Carolyn at his side. The two of them seemed to be getting along well enough now, and Bobby had high hopes that life would improve for Mike now.

As he finished flicking through the photographs, Bobby's smile faltered, and then faded completely. There was one person conspicuously missing from all of the photographs. Lexie's birthday would forever be marred by sharing the date with her mother's death.

Bobby had visited Alex's grave that morning. Her empty grave. At first, he had dared to hope… If there was no chance of recovering a body from the wreckage of the explosion, then perhaps she hadn't been there at all? But as time passed, he knew that he couldn't allow himself to cling to this idea. Alex would never have abandoned him and their baby. If she hadn't returned to them, it was because she couldn't. And he knew why. It was all down to Boyd.

Hatred and rage burned momentarily as Bobby shut the laptop down. He had been unable to find any leads. The captain seemed to think Boyd had fled the state, and possibly the country, but Bobby knew better. Boyd had something planned, he was sure. He just didn't know what. And it seemed, until Boyd took some kind of action, Bobby would have no more clues to find him.

Bobby got up and shook those thoughts away to dwell on later. He needed to get Lexie ready to go to her grandparents, and then he was off to work.

 

"Where do you think he is?"

"He's probably just running late," John assured his wife.

"Yes, but it's not like Bobby to not call," Penny fretted. "I tried to call his cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail."

John looked up at the clock, frowning. "He could be out in the field and his phone battery just died." At Penny's anxious look, he added "Give him another ten minutes and then give the office a call."

Penny nodded briskly, scooping her granddaughter, who was beginning to fuss, off of the floor. "It's alright, Lexie," she murmured. "Daddy will be here soon." She glanced nervously at the clock again, biting her lip.

"John, you don't think he's been hurt?"

"Don't invite trouble," John warned. "Everything is probably fine."

"Oh yes," Penny said, nodding. "I'm sure it is." But her expression was doubtful as she continued to pace the room, cradling her granddaughter tightly.

They waited the ten minutes in strained silence before Penny passed Lexie to her husband. "I'm calling MCS."

When she explained that she was looking after Detective Goren's daughter, and inquired as to whether or not he was in the field, she was put on hold. "They're probably going to make me wait a – oh! Yes, hello, this is Penelope Eames."

"Mrs. Eames," the voice on the other end of the line said. "We were just going to call you."

 

Bobby blinked his eyes open, looking around the room blearily. The room seemed completely unfamiliar to him. Casting his mind back, he found a blank space in his memory. He knew that he had dropped Lexie off at John and Penny's house, and then left for work… But then there was nothing.

Opening his eyes further, he saw a woman in scrubs regarding him. "Are you awake?" she asked softly.

He attempted to say yes, but had to stop and clear his throat first. "Am I in a hospital?" he asked instead.

"Yes, you are," she replied.

"What happened?" Bobby asked, attempting to sit up.

"Do you remember anything that happened in the last twenty-four hours?" she inquired.

Bobby thought for a moment, before what she had said broke through the haze that seemed to cloud his mind. "Twenty-four hours!" he exclaimed. "My daughter," he said quickly, "She's staying with her grandparents, you'll need to call them and-"

"It's alright," the woman, who he presumed was a nurse, said. "Your family has already been contacted."

"Good," Bobby sighed, leaning back again. His head was throbbing. "So… what exactly happened?" He looked down to examine his body for source of injury. He could see that he was wearing a hospital gown. All of his limbs responded when he attempted to move them, and the only source of pain was his head, although the throbbing was certainly not even close to the worst pain he'd felt. He reached up to try and feel for a bump, thinking he might have been clocked by a perp.

"Mr. Goren, you were brought in after the scene at One Police Plaza. Do you remember that?"

"No," Bobby replied, thinking that it seemed an odd description of whatever had caused him to end up in the hospital. "What happened?" While he had been speaking to the nurse, he had also been almost subconsciously taking in his surroundings. He appeared to be in a single room, although the lack of windows was odd. He then noticed that he was looking up at the nurse who was speaking to him, made necessary by the fact that he was very close to the floor.

"Mr. Goren, I'm afraid it seems that you've had a relapse. You've been brought into the hospital for your own safety."

Bobby had risen from the mattress as she spoke, comprehension breaking over him like a wave of cold water. "A relapse?" he demanded.

"You're safe here," the nurse said, her tone calm and reassuring. "We want to help you."

"I'm in an isolation room," Bobby stated tonelessly. "You think I have schizophrenia."

"We want to help you," she repeated. "You've managed the disease for many years, Mr. Goren, and Doctor Boyd is confident that, with help, you can do it again."

But Bobby hadn't even heard the end of her sentence. "WHAT?" he demanded, flecks of spit flying from his mouth. He had thought this might have been the latest attempt of the NYPD to label him as unstable, and though he had no idea who he'd pissed off enough to have him carted off to Bellevue, he hadn't realized that it was much, much worse than that.

"BOYD'S CLAIMING TO BE A DOCTOR, IS HE?" Bobby roared. He saw the woman push the Code White button, heard the code being called over the intercom. "WHERE ARE YOU?" Bobby demanded of the room at large. "COME OUT HERE AND FACE ME, BOYD! WHAT ARE YOU PLAYING AT? WHAT'S THE GAME HERE?"

He saw the group of people enter the room, but his ears seemed to be ringing with rage so that he couldn't hear them. He knew that they would try to convince him first to take the pills they were offering, trying to help calm him down as he had seen countless times with his mother. Should he refuse, they would be forced to use an intramuscular injection…

As Bobby's eyes began to drift shut, his last thought was one of confusion. Everything that he had seen correlated with what he knew from his mother's hospitalizations. In fact, all of the medical personnel and security guards in his room were playing the part very well. Was it possible that he really was in a legitimate hospital, and Boyd had somehow convinced the staff that he was a doctor? Against his will, Bobby felt his mind slipping into a dreamless sleep.

 

"I don't understand," Penny said. "We saw him yesterday morning, and he was fine!" She looked to her husband for confirmation.

Mike and Carolyn were seated on the couch in the Eames' living room, across from Penny and John in their respective armchairs. Lexie, oblivious to the stress of the four adults in the room, crawled around the living room floor and picked up toys at random.

"The captain said he started acting erratically in the late afternoon. And then he apparently had a complete meltdown in the parking garage at 1PP," Mike explained.

"I find that hard to believe," John said.

"We saw the surveillance tapes," Carolyn replied. There was an uncomfortable silence as they processed that information. "He's been placed in that new facility right near the precinct."

"Can we see him?" Penny asked tremulously. "We could bring Lexie, I'm sure he'd like to see her."

"They're not letting him have visitors yet," Carolyn replied.

"And that seems fishy to me," Mike snapped, leaping to his feet.

"Not really," Carolyn pointed out. "They don't usually allow visitors to patients in isolation."

Mike seemed to deflate at that, but his eyes were still narrowed in concentration. "What do we know about this place?"

"I checked it out," Carolyn replied. "It only just opened a few months ago, and it is rather small, but it seems legit. All of the staff members check out and there are a dozen other patients being treated there too. If it was some kind of ruse, it would be a very thorough one."

"Why would he be sent to a small facility rather than Bellevue?" Mike demanded. "That seems off."

"Bellevue fills up and has to send patients elsewhere regularly," Carolyn explained. "The new facility just happened to have space available."

"Pretty ironic," Mike said. "Like they were ready for him."

"Mike," Carolyn sighed, "I know he's your friend, but you know he's had a lot to deal with."

"Well why now?" Mike snapped. "Why not right away?" Everyone in the room knew that 'right away' meant 'right after Alex died'.

"You saw those tapes," Carolyn said.

"He could have been drugged," Mike said stubbornly.

"I suppose," Carolyn acquiesced.

"But you don't think so, do you?" It was John who asked the question.

"I really can't know," Carolyn said carefully.

"Well, we'll look after Lexie," Penny said. "I know we were going to go and see Liz this weekend, but in light of what happened…"

"Why don't I take her?" Mike suggested. "It's the least I can do." His eyes clouded as he frowned. It didn't make any sense to him. And yet, he couldn't find any hint of wrongdoing. He vowed to investigate further as soon as he got back home, and in the meantime, he would keep Bobby's daughter with him at all times. Though he mentioned none of these thoughts to John and Penny, Mike thought that if Boyd _was_ behind this, she might need protection.


	14. Figment of Imagination

_March 2010_

Bobby opened his eyes with a groan. As the world came into focus, the memory of his last wakeful moments came over him. Struggling to a sitting position, his gaze focussed on a figure by the door. " _You_ ," Bobby growled.

Boyd was watching him with an almost mournful air. "I'm so sorry to see you in here, Bobby." He spoke softly, almost pitying.

"You put me in here," Bobby snarled. "Tell me, Boyd, what's the game here? Killing Alex wasn't enough, now you want to play?" His stomach clenched painfully at his own words, but fury with the man in front of him was enough to maintain his concentration.

"Oh, Bobby," Boyd sighed, such pity in both his tone and body language that Bobby was incredibly confused. "I am so sorry."

"You're not sorry!" Bobby snapped. He had no idea what Boyd was playing at. "You _murdered_ my wife!" Boyd was shaking his head, still with the same convincing expression of great pity on his face. "She's gone because of you!"

"I won't deny it," Boyd sighed, shocking Bobby into silence. "But it isn't what you think."

Once he had found his voice, Bobby demanded, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're sick, Bobby," Boyd explained carefully. "I know things probably aren't making a lot of sense right now. But together, I think we can help you work through it." Bobby snorted derisively. "Are you willing to try and work with me again, Bobby?" Boyd asked.

Bobby was so bewildered at this point that he simply stared at Boyd blankly.

"I know you recently thought you had reason to distrust me," Boyd began, ignoring Bobby's sound of disbelief. "But I want to help you. Please, just try to work with me."

Bobby had no idea what was going on. But there was no way for him to escape if Boyd had accomplices. It seemed that the best course of action, for the moment, would be to play along with whatever game it was that Boyd was playing. He nodded mutely.

"Good," Boyd sighed, with an incredibly convincing air of relief. "Now, Bobby, this is going to be very confusing, and very difficult to hear. But I want you to listen carefully, okay?"

Bobby nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.

"Bobby…" Boyd paused and seemed to be gathering himself to deliver some terrible news. "Your wife… Alex. She isn't real. She never was."

Bobby stared blankly at Boyd before bursting out laughing. Whatever he had expected, this certainly wasn't it. This statement was so ludicrous that Bobby continued to laugh hysterically, uncontrollably, to the point where his vision blurred with tears. "Very funny, Boyd," Bobby gasped. "This is your new plan? Convince me she was a figment of my imagination? Well it's not going to work."

Boyd remained silent, watching Bobby without a hint of amusement. When Bobby finally regained control of himself, Boyd said, "I'm sorry, Bobby. But she doesn't exist. She was a hallucination."

"Don't talk nonsense," Bobby snapped. "Alex was real. Other people knew her, she had a family and… Why am I even explaining this to you?"

"Bobby, before we can even move on to anything else, you need to accept this. Alex was not a real person. No one else met her. She doesn't have a family; she doesn't exist."

"Don't be ridiculous," Bobby snapped, angry, despite the fact that Boyd must certainly be trying to wind him up. "The entire Major Case Squad knew her. She was my partner, before we got married and then she was partnered with Cassleman, and… Stop shaking your head at me!"

"Bobby you never had a partner," Boyd explained slowly and carefully. "There is no Cassleman in the Major Case Squad."

"Not anymore," Bobby accused.

"Ah yes," Boyd sighed regretfully. "I knew we would get here." He seemed, once again, to be preparing himself for a difficult conversation. "I read in your file that you believed I had killed these people. This… Cassleman… and Alex." Bobby simply glared and waited for Boyd to continue. "I didn't kill them, because they aren't real," Boyd stated emphatically. "But I can see why you blamed me for Alex's disappearance."

"Really?" Bobby asked sarcastically.

"I started treating you again last year," Boyd explained. "I increase the dosage of your medication. And as the symptoms faded away, so did the hallucination of a wife."

"You. Are. _Insane_ ," Bobby hissed.

"And you were so distraught that she was gone," Boyd ploughed on. "You disappeared. I suppose you were desperate enough to get her back that you tried going off your pills completely. And you had a complete psychotic episode. You needed an explanation for her to have gone, and you blamed me, so your mind came up with a story – a story painting me as a killer, and involving the murder of your wife."

"No." Bobby glared at Boyd. "She was real. She was _real_ ," he said desperately. Boyd was playing him, he knew it must be so, and yet he found himself frantic. Almost against his will, he was trying to come up with explanations for her existence, justifying his belief in the fact that Alex had been real.

"What about Lexie?" he demanded.

"Who?" Boyd asked blankly.

"My daughter!" Bobby snapped.

"You don't have a daughter," Boyd replied.

"Don't you pull that on me – I know you've seen her, you sent me that picture at New Years. And I am warning you Boyd," Bobby snarled, "If you go _near_ her I will rip you apart _limb by limb_."

"First of all," Boyd began, a slight edge entering his voice for the first time, "I should warn you that death threats are not tolerated here. I haven't been in contact with you at New Years, and you don't have a daughter."

"Right," Bobby spat. "Because if Alex wasn't real, then Lexie couldn't be. But she is definitely real! I dropped her off at her grandparents this morning…. Yesterday morning, whenever."

"Oh," Boyd said, a look of dawning comprehension crossing his features. "You thought…" His face morphed back into the now familiar pitying expression. "Bobby… do you mean this little girl?" He held out a photograph featuring Mike and Carolyn, the former carrying Lexie in his arms.

" _Yes_ ," Bobby replied. He stared hungrily down at the photograph, his gratitude to Mike for caring for his daughter replaced by fury. "You're still watching her! Don't you _dare_ touch her!"

"No, I'm not – I wouldn't hurt her," Boyd said quickly. "Your friend Mike brought this in along with some of your personal effects. He was quite upset, naturally."

"What do you mean?"

"Well you… He understands that you didn't mean it Bobby; he knows that you're sick, but he's still very angry right now… You kidnapped his daughter."

"What?" Bobby demanded. "Mike doesn't have a daughter! I… _What_?"

Boyd indicated the photograph still clenched in Bobby's hand. "That," Boyd explained, "Is not your daughter. That little girl's name is Katrina. She isn't your daughter Bobby, she's Mike and Carolyn's daughter."

"Katrina?" Bobby echoed blankly. "No… No! She's not Katrina; she's Lexie! And you've been watching her; you took this photograph!"

"Bobby, _you_ took that photograph," Boyd corrected. "Mike found it in your apartment. Proof, he said, that you'd been watching them before you took Katrina."

"I didn't take-" Bobby cut himself off, shaking his still throbbing head rapidly to try and clear it. "This doesn't make any sense. Lexie is my daughter. She looks nothing like Mike or Carolyn – she looks exactly like Alex!"

"It's easy to look like someone who only exists in your mind."

Bobby let out an actual scream of frustration. He seriously considered throwing Boyd bodily against the wall, but that would only land him in another drug induced sleep.

"Fine then," Bobby spat through gritted teeth. "She looks like John and Penny. Or I suppose they don't exist either?"

"Katrina's grandparents," Boyd said, nodding. "Yes, they're real."

" _Lexie's_ grandparents," Bobby corrected. "Alex's parents."

"No, Bobby," Boyd sighed. "They're Carolyn's parents. She and Mike were both relieved that you dropped Katrina off there before attempting to return to work." Here, a small smile crept onto Boyd's face. "I knew you wouldn't hurt her. You're not violent, Bobby. Or at least, no more than any other man."

Bobby's mind was racing. Clearly this was still some kind of game that Boyd was playing, but Bobby had no idea what the endgame here was. But if it was Boyd's plan to try and convince him that his family wasn't real, Bobby thought it would be best to hear the entire explanation Boyd had come up with. He knew that being kept in isolation, it might be possible for Stockholm syndrome, or something similar, to contribute to his likelihood of believing Boyd. And he mustn't do that. Boyd was unpredictable.

"Okay then," Bobby said, trying to look as though he truly doubted himself. "Explain it to me, doctor. Start from the beginning." This would, Bobby reasoned, give him time to find holes in Boyd's story, tiny glimmers of reality, evidence of Boyd's lies.

"Alright," Boyd agreed, with a resigned sigh. "I first became your doctor many years ago. We were both in the army then – you in the CID, and I in a medical division. Your superior had reported that you were starting to speak about someone who didn't exist."

And here it was, Bobby thought triumphantly. The first falsehood. He hadn't known Alex when he was in the army, so if Boyd was going to claim that's when he started hallucinating, Bobby knew it wasn't true. He was careful to keep his face expressionless.

"You know how it was in the army," Boyd continued, oblivious to Bobby's musings. "Either get treated quickly and quietly or get out. And you were a very skilled investigator – they would much rather keep you. At first, no one knew anything was off, because they thought they perhaps simply had never run into the person you were speaking of. You were talking about a mentor, someone who was teaching you to profile. You had become quite good at profiling by that point, so it wasn't hard to believe that you'd had help. But eventually, it became apparent that no mentor existed."

"Wait a minute," Bobby said slowly. "Are you talking about Declan? Declan Gage?"

Boyd nodded. "He was the first reported hallucination."

"That's not right," Bobby countered. "Other people knew Declan. In fact, Ross was pissed off when Declan tried to help in an investigation." Bobby stopped talking there, the memories of that investigation still painful to think about.

"Your captain was upset when you started talking about Declan again because he knew that it meant your symptoms were worsening."

"You've got an explanation for everything, don't you?" Bobby asked. He sighed, forcing his face to become expressionless once more. "Get on with it then."

"Well, I had high hopes that you would still be able to live a relatively normal life at that point. For one thing, your hallucination wasn't frightening you; in fact, you spoke of Declan like a friend. And for another, you were still extremely high functioning. The symptoms didn't seem to be affecting you very negatively at all. So I started you on a low dose of anti-psychotic medication, and by the time you'd joined the NYPD, the symptoms seemed to be gone."

"I also returned to the city around the same time, and took you on as a patient in my private practice. While you still didn't seem to be aware that Gage was a hallucination, at least he had disappeared, and you seemed to be doing well. You moved up in the ranks of the NYPD, and eventually got a spot in MCS."

"But it was around that time that you started telling me about a partner. Alex Eames, you called her. But you had previously told me that you worked alone. Most cops would be unwilling to work with a partner who had a history of mental illness, and you preferred to be alone anyway. I thought perhaps MCS had a different policy… But I soon came to realize that the symptoms had returned."

"Still," Boyd continued, "Like the mentor you'd imagined in the army, this partner you spoke of wasn't frightening you, and you weren't harming yourself or anyone else. While it caused you to become more ostracized at work, there didn't seem to be any real harm. But I monitored you more closely then."

"And then you spoke of a new hallucination, though of course you didn't know she was such. A woman killer, using a false name. One who got away."

"Nicole?" Bobby demanded, before he remembered that he was supposed to be listening, and not commenting. "Nicole was real – I wish she wasn't, trust me, but she was real."

"She wasn't," Boyd replied, sympathetically, but firmly. "And now there was a hallucination that was causing you distress, but the very next week you told me she had gotten away. Perhaps, I thought, you had been under extra stress, and now you would continue to make your way as you had before."

"But she returned," Boyd sighed. "This time, you told me she had a personal vendetta against you, specifically. And this was a very bad sign. So I increased your dosage of medication until we found a new balance. You believed she had been arrested, and while that meant you didn't realize she was a hallucination, at least you were functioning at your baseline again. When you told me Alex was taking a leave of absence, I thought perhaps your symptoms might be fading completely. But then you reported that Nicole had managed to avoid conviction for her crimes."

"I soon found out the reason why, I believe, your symptoms increased. The captain at the time had thought perhaps it was time to try having you work with a partner – Detective Bishop. Having a new partner explained why Alex had taken a leave of absence – you couldn't have two partners. The 'escape' of Nicole Wallace was the stress playing out. The captain decided it was best to let you work alone again, you claimed that Alex had returned, but you had stopped speaking about Nicole, for the time being."

"Then, later that year, she was back again. This time, I tried you on a completely different medication. It seemed to work, for quite a while. Until she returned again. This time, though you eventually came to the conclusion that she'd disappeared again, you were becoming more paranoid. It was about a year later that you told me your partner had been kidnapped by the daughter of your former mentor. The return of that first hallucination could mean nothing good – particularly since he had been associated with harm to Alex."

"And then your mother died," Boyd lamented. "I think that was the trigger. To make matters worse, her death was followed closely by your brother's. You told me that Nicole had killed your brother, and I tried to adjust your medication again. But then you claimed that Declan had killed Nicole, and had been in on the death of your brother, and I knew then that you were starting a downward spiral. Your previously harmless mentor hallucination had turned against you. There were also the imagined undercover operations in prison and during a suspension from the NYPD happening at around the same time… With an increased dosage, Declan Gage faded away, but so did Alex."

"You were frantic," Boyd said. "You claimed that she'd been injured. And that's when I tried to explain that she wasn't real." Boyd sighed regretfully, closing his eyes as though pained by the memory. "I should have tried harder to convince you long ago. But it seemed harmless at the time."

"I could see that you didn't believe me, and you ran out of the office and disappeared. I thought you'd gone for good. I retired from practice, and opened this facility for mental health. But then you returned. I recognized your name when we got the call from Bellevue about a man who'd kidnapped his friend's daughter and attempted to get into One Police Plaza. I asked for your case, even though I'm technically retired now. No one knows you like I do, Bobby."


	15. Back to the Drawing Board

_March 2010_

Alex scanned the list of case files she was to be requesting for the lawyers in the office she worked for. They were all listed by case number, which would make it much easier for her to have a file faxed that no one had requested. Still, she would need to choose the name of one of the attorneys to make the request. And hope that they wouldn't notice that she seemed to have ordered an extra file.

Hartfield – that was which lawyer she would choose. He was an arrogant man, and considered anything classified as receptionist work to be beneath him. He wouldn't look at the list of files faxed over. Alex glanced around, but didn't see anyone. It seemed to be tempting fate to just order the file now in the middle of the day. But really, how much more could she plan it? What were the chances of anyone noticing? Even if one of the attorneys walked up to her desk when the file was faxed over, she'd just say that the fax was for one of the other lawyers.

Taking a breath, Alex went ahead and began to fill out the form requesting the case file, and hoped that no one would find out. It took some time for the fax to arrive, which Alex spent subtly watching the clock and trying to hide her nerves. When the fax machine finally spit out the file, she snatched it quickly and stuffed it into her bag.

She glanced around, and still no one had seen anything. Her heart continued to pound, waiting for something to happen. It seemed almost too simple. Then again, getting the file was only the first step. A tiny step, really.

Two conspicuous items now rested in her shoulder bag. The file – and the message Boyd had left her. What if he was watching her right now?

Alex didn't know exactly why she hadn't shown the threat from Boyd to the Marshall's assigned to her case. All she knew was that she was feeling threatened – and did not dare to trust anyone.

 

Boyd was behind the explosion, of this Alex was certain. But she had absolutely no idea how to connect him to it. Once again, she considered bringing the evidence to the US Marshall assigned to her case, and once again, she decided against it. If Boyd had found her there was a good chance that there was a leak somewhere; that someone was feeding information about her to Boyd. That left her with two pressing questions.

First of all, who was giving Boyd the information? Could it be one or both of Alex's own case agents? The other nagging thought was why Boyd had neglected to act until now. Had it taken him this long to get the inside informant? Or was it some other kind of plan? What was the endgame here? If he or an accomplice had been waiting for her to show up at the church in order to take those photographs, why hadn't they waited until she was inside to set off the blast? Why was she still alive?

What she needed was a plan. Waiting in her apartment, knowing that Boyd could find her at any time, she was a sitting duck. What she needed to do was find out who was passing information to Boyd, and then maybe she could turn whoever it was against him. She would have to go into hiding, without the help of the government. Once she figured out who was working with Boyd, once she had enough evidence, then she could go back and give that bastard exactly what he deserved.

 

Alex was currently poring over the casefile in a coffee shop, a small suitcase between her feet. She had thrown a bag together and left. How long she could simply drift between public venues without an actual place of residence she had no idea, but she hoped for her situation to be temporary anyway.

Her biggest regret was not saying anything to Tom. But she didn't dare say anything to him for fear that it would put him in more danger than he already potentially was. She wished she had had a chance to say goodbye to him and Lucas. But with any luck, she would be able to make it up to them once she figured out exactly what was going on.

Flipping through Boyd's file, the first thing she noticed was that it was incomplete. The only file after his arrest was one stating that he had escaped and was currently missing. Nothing on her, and nothing on Bobby.

It took a moment for her to pull herself together after that. She had steeled herself to read the most gruesome details about her husband's death, and finding nothing was giving her an odd let down feeling. Still, she had other information to search.

Moving on, she instead began to run a simple google search on the US Marshalls assigned to her case. The first few search items to come up confirmed that they were, at least, actually with the Marshall Service. The more difficult thing was trying to find some actual useful information.

Being unable to search the police data banks, she instead refined her search to try and find information on them. Perhaps one of them was from the same hometown as Boyd? Went to the same college? Perhaps there was some sort of link between them that could be found through a public search engine.

Two coffees and multiple hours later, and she was back to the case file, lamenting the missing information. It didn't make sense that the file wasn't updated. Shock and confusion were replaced with anger. Surely Mike, or someone from the department, would have made sure the case was actively pursued? Surely Alex's own parents would have hounded the cops enough to at least put in the effort it takes to maintain the file?

Alex flipped back through it anyway, biting her lip and trying to focus her anger into determined searching through the file. Every detail was closely examined. There was only one new piece of information the Alex didn't already know from her involvement in the case. The record of Boyd's escape.

The method of his escape didn't interest her very much beyond any potential accomplices, but she did notice one error in the record. The date of Boyd's disappearing act was wrong. She knew that it must be, because it was after the move. The date that she referred to as the move would be burned into her mind forever; she wasn't wrong. Perhaps the numbers in the file were simply inverted. Still, she added _wrong date_ to the small list of notes she had jotted down while reviewing what meager information she had.

 

_April 2010_

Alex had paid a six year old ten bucks for their visitor pass. After two weeks of washing up in public washrooms and sleeping in the furniture section of K-Mart, she had determined that she needed inside information.

She had been scouting the government building for a few days now before the opportunity had presented itself. She managed to find a kid on the edge of the group, close enough to not worry the chaperones, far enough to not be overhead. A quick bartering, and she had a visitors pass. One child in the group without a pass wouldn't necessarily even be noticed mixed in the crowd.

Alex stayed with the tour at first, until she managed to edge further away, eventually ducking into a washroom until the tour had moved on. Now she had to try and gain access to information, which wasn't going to be easy.

Without a username and password, it would be easier to go with paper files. But paper files would be more difficult to search. In fact, she wasn't even certain that paper records were even kept anymore.

"New plan," she murmured aloud. She needed to gain electronic access. Trying to remain inconspicuous, Alex looked around discreetly for someone who might be heading for a computer in the building. Hopefully someone who wouldn't notice her casually watching them enter their login information. Of course, even if she found someone to follow, and they were dense enough to miss her watching them enter their password, chances were that they would type too fast for her to catch their password.

"New plan again," she muttered. Talking to herself was going to become a habit if she wasn't careful. Alex glanced around, supposing it would be too simple for a sign to simply declare the way to a security office with camera monitoring. Preferably with security not present. Ideally leaving a long enough space for her to zoom in on someone entering their login information. Assuming that she could figure out how to work the equipment before anyone returned.

Alex heaved a sigh. This plan was getting more complicated the more she thought about it. There were too many factors she hadn't considered. _I'm out of practice_ , she thought. Of course, she usually had more resources than she did currently.

"Excuse me?" a voice asked. "You're supposed to stay with the tour!"

Alex swung around to see a security guard coming towards her. Fingering the visitors badge clipped to her cardigan, Alex was glad she'd at least had to foresight to find a reasonable excuse.

"Right," she agreed. "I popped into the washroom and when I came out they were gone. I figured if I wandered around I'd run into them eventually!" She added a nervous laugh after for good measure.

The security guard narrowed his eyes at her. "Come with me," he snapped irritably, no doubt annoyed at having to deal with an incompetent woman getting separated from the tour.

"Sorry," Alex apologized, still trying to put off an air of embarrassment rather than nervousness.

The security guard didn't reply, simply pointed to the front entrance where the group of schoolchildren and a few older people were collected. "The tour's wrapping up."

"Thank you," Alex said, avoiding eye contact in a continued embarrassed façade. "I didn't realize I was so close to the front."

The security guard nodded and turned back to the direction they had come from. Alex breathed a sigh of relief. This plan had been careless at best. She had been so desperate to do something, to take action of some kind. But it seemed that she was back to the drawing board again.


	16. Doctor's Orders

_April 2010_

Mike hoisted Lexie into his arms. He was still being refused the right to see Bobby, but had been encouraged to bring in some personal effects such as clothes. Bobby was not to receive any visitors until he was stabilized, according to the nurse that Mike had spoken to on the phone.

Mike was on his way to the facility itself. Carolyn had done her due diligence investigating the place via the internet, but Mike intended to actually take a look inside and assess the place. Though he could easily take Lexie in a stroller, he had instead opted for the infant carrier that would allow her to stay close to him. Any sign of trouble, and Mike was getting himself, and more importantly Lexie, out of there, regardless of the potential consequences to Bobby, which was how Mike knew his friend would want him to act.

It was at Mike's constant badgering that one of the nurses finally obtained a doctor's order to run a toxicology screen. The results did end up showing Ritalin in Bobby's system. Talking to ME Rodgers ad confirmed that an overdose of Ritalin could lead to psychotic behaviour, although not the amount found in his system.

"That's because they didn't run it right away!" Mike had declared triumphantly. However, as it turned out, getting Bobby out wasn't going to be that easy. He had been unable to prove that the drug caused the symptoms.

"If it was a drug overdose, then shouldn't the symptoms have gone once the drug made its way out of his system?" Carolyn had asked.

"And how do we know the symptoms haven't gone?" Mike demanded. "No one's been able to see him!"

Carolyn had returned to work, but Mike had taken a few days off to try and get to the bottom of the situation. He now entered the building, one arm instinctively wrapping around the sleeping infant strapped to his chest, as though he could shield her from harm by keeping her close.

"Excuse me," Mike asked at what looked like a reception desk. "I'm here to see a patient."

"Name?" she asked in a bored tone.

"Robert Goren," Mike replied.

There was a pause as she typed into the keyboard in front of her. "I'm sorry, that patient isn't yet receiving visitors," she replied.

"When will he be getting visitors?" Mike asked.

"When the team as determined that he has improved enough to receive visitors," she recited, clearly having given this explanation many times before.

"I need to know how he's doing," Mike demanded. "I want to know how he's being treated here."

"I understand that it can be difficult having your partner away, but this is what's best for him right now," the woman replied, eyeing the infant carrier.

Mike didn't bother to correct her, instead asking, "Is there someone I can talk to about what's going on?"

"I can see if the nurse had time to speak to you," the receptionist offered.

"Yes, do that please," Mike answered.

He ended up waiting for nearly twenty minutes before a harassed looking woman in scrubs appeared, wringing out her hair for some reason. She looked to the receptionist, who didn't even look up, simply pointing to Mike over her computer screen. Apparently she had seen the nurse in question with her peripheral vision though, since she asked, "Someone not wanting their pills again?" and received an irritated sigh and nod in response.

"I'm sorry, you are?" she asked Mike.

"Mike Logan," Mike replied. "I was wondering how Bobby Goren is doing?"

The nurse gave up on her hair, tossing her ponytail back over her shoulder. "Right, and you are?" When Mike looked confused, she prompted, "Brother? Partner? Colleague?"

"Friend," Mike replied.

She nodded, considering. "Well, he's doing a bit better today, but isn't ready to receive visitors yet."

"That's what everyone has been telling me, but no one has given me any information," Mike snapped.

"I'm afraid we can't share details about your friend's care plan with you," she replied sympathetically. "I can tell you that he is doing better than when he was admitted," she offered.

"How am I supposed to know that, though?" Mike demanded. "I haven't seen him since he got locked up in here, and no one has been permitted to see him. I need some actual information. How do I even know he isn't being mistreated here?"

To her credit, if the nurse was surprised or offended by Mike's implication neither showed on her face. "His family could petition for the right to see his records, and make treatment decisions for him. It's a legal process that I confess I know very little about."

Mike checked himself before groaning in frustration. Bobby's blood relatives consisted entirely of the one year old strapped to Mike's torso. He was about to thank her and leave, and try to come up with some other strategy when an idea occurred to him. "Family," he began. "Does that include in-laws?"

"Again," the nurse replied, "I don't really know much about the process, but I could look into it for you. And there's no harm in trying. I know you're just trying to look out for your friend."

"Thank you."

 

Penny looked to her husband, as she usually did for any important decisions like this one. "What do you think, Johnny?" she asked.

"Well, if it will allow us to be sure Bobby's alright," John replied, "I think we should do it."

"I just need you to sign for this," Mike encouraged, holding out the legal documents. "I'll push the papers through myself."

"But shouldn't the doctors there know what's best for him?" Penny inquired. From an older generation in which patients generally trusted doctors without question, it was a question Mike was prepared for.

"I'm sure they're doing their best," Mike placated her. "But I'm just worried they don't have the full information. Besides that, I only want to make sure that this is a reputable facility and that all the decisions being made are sound ones."

John nodded and reached for the papers to sign. Penny had Lexie on her lap and after looking to her granddaughter she said, "I do hope we can bring Lexie in to see him soon. Seeing his daughter again would be the best medicine, I think."

Mike smiled and nodded his agreement. Taking the papers back from John and the baby back from Penny, he thanked them and got up to leave. "I'll show you out," John offered.

When the two men reached the front door, John asked, "You think there's something off about this situation. Do you have any proof?"

Mike hesitated before answering. "Nothing convulsive."

John nodded. "Thank you for not worrying my wife. I don't like to see Penny fretting. But if there is something wrong here, I want your word that you'll do what it takes to turn the situation around."

"That's what I'm trying to do," Mike replied.

"Good," John said, nodding his head sharply. "We've come to care for that boy as family, and don't think I haven't realized that you aren't keeping our granddaughter with you purely as a favour to us – or even to him." Mike hesitated only a moment before confirming John's statement with a small nod. "If you need any help with anything, come to me, you hear?"

"Yes, sir," Mike agreed.

"Good," John said, extending a hand to Mike, who took it. "You look after my granddaughter."

"Of course," Mike replied, not missing just a hint of warning in the other man's voice.

For someone who had once been so alone, Bobby had people who were in his corner now. _We'll figure this out_ , Mike promised. He held Lexie to him closely, scanning the area as had become his habit before he headed to the car.

 

"Yes, I did speak to his friend about filing for the right to view the patient's records," the same nurse who had spoken to Mike the previous day said. "He's just very concerned for his friend. Once he sees the treatment approach, and knows that we aren't intending to harm him, I'm sure he'll relax."

"Nurse, you do understand that the patient kidnapped his friend's son? Do you really think he has our patient's best interests at heart?"

"He seemed very genuine," she replied. "And," she added, "Bobby has been doing very well. We've seen no renewed episodes of psychosis, no evidence of hallucinations, and he even seems to be in control of his delusions. Doctor, as I said yesterday, I think he's more than ready for visitors."

"And you base this opinion on what exactly?"

The nurse frowned, having met this kind of superior attitude with other doctors in the past. "Over a decade of experience working in mental health, Doctor Boyd," she replied, refraining from adding anything scathing with much self-control.

Boyd frowned, considering. "Yes, I think you may be right," he mused. "I was only worried of how being faced with what he'd done to his friend might affect his recovery."

Perhaps she had been wrong to judge him so quickly. But some sort of gut instinct told her that his initial reaction showed his true colours, and what she was seeing now was an attempt to placate her. "Well, we could always begin with short supervised contact," she suggested.

"Is this friend the one listed as his contact?" Boyd asked, already knowing the answer.

"He is, along with another friend named Lewis Dayton, and a couple named John and Penelope Eames, though I haven't spoken with them. It's mostly been Michael Logan who's been calling and inquiring after him, although Lewis did phone once as well."

"You know the case well," Boyd commented. "I'm inclined to think you're right, but as I said, I worry about how the reunion of Michael and Bobby will go. Why don't you first start by phoning his other friend? I think that visit will be one that is less likely to undo what progress the patient has made."

"I'll give them both a call so they're aware of the change," the nurse agreed. "I'll need the new order in writing as well please, doctor."

"You know, don't worry about it," Boyd instructed. "I'll call them myself after I write the order for visitation privileges."

"You will?" the nurse asked, shocked. She didn't think she'd ever seen a doctor make a call to the patient's contacts before; in fact many didn't even like dealing with family members in person.

"Of course," he said smoothly. "You're probably busy enough as it is, Veronica."

"Nurse Bridges is fine," she informed him, heading to the medication room to prepare the patients' evening doses. She wasn't sure what it was exactly, but she did not like Doctor Boyd.


	17. The Baby's Name

Lewis was very unsure about the entire situation. Bobby's doctor had phoned him the previous day and advised him of the fact that his friend could now receive visitors. What he had found odd was the doctor's insistence that Lewis come tomorrow. And that he not invite John, Penny, and the baby along. He seemed to think that it would be too much stimulation.

Lewis gave his name at reception, and Bobby's name, and was invited into what looked something like a sunroom/activity room. He scanned the area for Bobby, who was him sitting at the table with a deck of cards in front of him, though he wasn't playing.

"Hey," Lewis said uncertainly. It took a moment for Bobby to look up.

"Hey," he returned after a pause. The word also came slowly, and Lewis suspected that the medication they had him on was slowing his mind.

Lewis sat awkwardly down at the table. "How're you doing?"

"Alright."

There was more silence and Lewis wondered what he should say. Should he ask about what lead Bobby to this place, or leave well enough alone? Mike seemed to think there was a chance that there was some kind of set up. Lewis hadn't known what to think. Should he ask Bobby if he was being held against his will? But if Bobby was truly psychotic, maybe he wouldn't know if he needed help?

Venturing to a ground that he was more certain would be safe, Lewis said, "The baby's doing okay. Mike's taking good care of her."

"How is… the baby?" Bobby asked. All he had to do was ask. Use the name, then he would know for sure. But he couldn't do it. Couldn't bring himself to say Katrina.

"She's doing well," Lewis replied. "She misses you, but like I said, Mike's taking good care of her."

Mike was taking care of her. If Bobby's version of reality was true, shouldn't the baby be with her grandparents? Mike, John, Penny, and Lexie's absence could all be explained by Boyd's version of reality. But Boyd was a liar, and a killer. Or was it he? Bobby had seen evidence of schizophrenia blurring the lines between fantasy and reality before, and the delusions that normally make no sense seeming so real. The problem was that a diseased mind didn't know it was sick. How could Bobby truly know which version of the truth was real?

Bobby was staring silently at a wall. Lewis watched him with concern, not knowing what to do or say, or in fact if he should do or say anything. "Umm," Lewis said awkwardly, "Is there anything you want to ask about?"

There was a small silence before Bobby spoke. "Yes," he said. "It's important." He slowly scanned the room, but Boyd wasn't there, and no one was watching them. "The baby's name," he said finally. "What's the baby's name?"

"Lexie?" Lewis asked, confused. "You've forgotten your daughter's name? Dude, they need to adjust your medication or something. That is a serious issue, man."

"Lexie," Bobby repeated, a small smile playing across his lips. "Lewis, I need you to very calmly say goodbye, leave, and get away from here as fast as you can."

"Bobby, I really think that I should talk to someone about your meds, or get John and Penny to maybe because-"

"No!" Bobby interrupted. "No," he repeated more quietly, as the nurse in the room had looked at him sharply. "Get out of here quickly, call Mike, and tell him that Boyd is here. Tell him, and make sure Lexie is safe. Make sure John and Penny are safe. Tell Mike to leave me here until they are all safe."

"So… so it was a set-up?" Lewis asked quietly. "You're okay?"

"Do what I asked, and then we'll know for sure," Bobby instructed grimly.

Lewis nodded firmly. "Okay." He got up. "Bye, Bobby," he said loudly. "I'll see you around!"

Bobby nodded and wished Lewis would hurry up and leave. He did not do inconspicuous well.

 

"Mike?"

"Carolyn," Mike replied. "What is it?"

"I thought you ought to know," she began. "I haven't completely dropped your concerns you know, and I've continued investigating that facility during breaks. Homicide just caught a case – one of the nurses at the facility is dead. Veronica Bridges, she was murdered last night. It might not be connected, but I thought I'd let you know anyway."

"Thank you," Mike said, genuinely touched. "I didn't know you were still looking into it."

"Well, don't get your hopes up," she cautioned. "It could be nothing."

"Right," Mike agreed. "Thanks again."

 

Mike had schmoozed his way into the crime scene and had just finished speaking with one of the detectives assigned to the Bridges homicide when his phone rang. "Sorry," he said to the detective before answering. "Logan."

"Hey, Mike, it's Lewis."

"Lewis, what is it?" Mike asked.

"It's Bobby."

"What's happened?" Mike asked, heart hammering.

"Everything's okay right now," Lewis assured him. "I just went to see him today and-"

"You went to see him?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, his doctor called me last night. He said he called you too."

"Well he didn't," Mike informed him.

"Oh," Lewis said. "Well, anyway that wasn't what I was calling about. I don't know what's going on with him but he forgot Lexie's name. Then he asked me to contact you and tell you Boyd was there."

"What?" Mike demanded. Despite the fact that he'd suspected foul play, he hadn't realized Boyd would tempt fate enough to actually enter the facility.

"He said to tell you that Boyd was there," Lewis repeated. "And then he asked me to tell you to make sure Lexie, John, and Penny are safe before you did anything else."

"Yeah, I will," Mike said. "But did he seem okay?"

"I don't know; I guess," Lewis replied. "They had him on some heavy meds, but he didn't seem like he'd been hurt or anything."

"Okay," Mike responded. "Okay, that's something." He took a breath, organizing his thoughts. "Lexie's with her grandparents. I'll give them a call to make sure everything's alright but then I'm getting Bobby out of there."

"Anything I can do to help?" Lewis asked.

"I don't think so right now," Mike replied, "But thanks. I'll give you a call if we need you?"

"Please do," Lewis replied, relieved. "I want to do whatever I can to help."

"Thanks."

The two bid each other farewell and hung up. Then Mike made his excuses to the homicide investigators and left, punching in John and Penny's number as he did so. The phone rang until the machine picked up. It was probably nothing, but Mike decided to swing by their place before heading to Bobby just to double check.

 

Mike knocked on the door for the third time. "Mr. and Mrs. Eames?" he called. "Are you in there?"

He didn't particularly want to kick their door in if they'd just decided to go on an outing and everything was actually fine. So instead, he circled around, coming to a stop at the side of the house, and looked in the living room window. John and Penny were both sitting on the couch, asleep. Lexie was nowhere to be seen, and was likely put down for a nap in the spare bedroom where her crib was.

Mike tapped on the window, trying to wake them up. The television was on, so when they didn't stir he knocked on the glass harder. They still hadn't woken, so Mike made fist and banged on the window frame, rattling the panes of glass. They didn't react at all, not even stirring in their sleep.

Throwing caution to the winds, Mike seized a rock from the garden and threw it into the house, smashing the window and setting off the burglar alarm. His fears were confirmed – John and Penny still didn't move. Mike climbed in through the window, taking caution to only let his thick suit jacket touch the shards of glass.

He ran over and grabbed Penny first, pulling her to the floor and assessing her. She was still alive, but her breathing was shallow. He then moved on to John, who was in the same condition. Mike was beginning to feel a bit light headed himself. He dived back over to the window and took a gulp of fresh air before pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to cover his mouth and nose.

Now he faced a difficult decision, needing to be made quickly. He had to check on Lexie, but he also had to get John and Penny out. He hesitated only a split second before grabbing Penny under the armpits and dragging her from the room, sending a mental apology to John. He made it to the front door and threw it open, took another gulp of air and dumped Penny in the doorway before making a mad dash up the stairs.

Mike threw open the door and felt his legs weaken with relief. He hadn't heard her before because of the burglar alarm, but Lexie was crying. As he pulled her from the crib, he saw that the window was open. It had probably been keeping the guest room safe, or at least safer than the rest of the house. As he pounded down the stairs he was faced with another decision. Leave Lexie in the doorway with Penny, or take her into the room where John was unconscious?

He ended up setting her down against Penny, hoping the feel of her grandmother's body, even if she was unconscious, would be enough to keep Lexie where she was. Mike jogged backwards back into the living room, so that he could keep an eye on Lexie and make a run for her if necessary.

Finally having made it to the doorway with John, Mike pulled out his phone and called 911. Mike set Lexie down on the grass in the yard and put his phone on speakerphone in order to pull John and Penny right out of the house and into the yard. Other people had begun to take notice, and as Mike picked Lexie up again to comfort her, one of the neighbors and someone who was driving by had come over to help. Mike kept an eye out for Boyd, wondering if he would be here to watch.

The ambulance pulled up shortly after, taking John and Penny away. Mike took out his phone once again. "Hello?"

"Lewis, it's Mike."

"What's up?" Lewis asked.

"Well, it's a good thing you sent me here first," Mike replied. He explained what had happened and asked, "Do you think I could drop Lexie with you?"

"Of course," Lewis replied. "Bring her over. I hope her grandparents are going to be okay."

"Me too," Mike agreed. "With any luck, Bobby can bring Lexie in to see them tonight."


	18. Sham

Alex had taken up surveillance on one of her own case agents. It would be the most difficult surveillance she had ever done, because if he were to see her, he would recognize her instantly. Of course, it was entirely possible that he was not, in fact, the one who was leaking information to Boyd. Meaning that the only danger she would be in was facing his irritation if he found her tailing him. But if he was the one – the dangers would be astronomical.

She had been pursuing him for a few days now, tucking her hair into various hats and changing tops regularly as she passed by on foot. Luckily for her, one of the neighbors was away, so she left her rental car parked in their driveway unless she needed to trail him in her vehicle.

So far, she hadn't seen anything suspicious. She also had no idea how long she should pursue him before changing targets. A week? Two? Maybe even a month? But the problem was that she wasn't going to have enough money to keep this up for long. She would either have to return to her job at the law firm, assuming they hadn't replaced her when she gave notice for an undetermined length of leave, or she would have to find a new job somewhere, made nearly impossible using either of her identities.

As of now, Alex was just hoping it wouldn't come to that. She was trailing one of the Marshall's in her car right now, and he had just pulled up to a restaurant, alone. Alex drove past and parked down a ways, power walking back to the restaurant. She was about to enter when she realized that he hadn't gone in – he was waiting at the bus stop outside.

Alex, keeping out of his line of sight, made her way back over to her car and started the engine. She was going to have to follow the bus when it came and watch for him to get off. She could only hope that he wouldn't get out somewhere isolated, making her and her vehicle more noticeable.

There was a moment as she was pursuing him in which she almost lost him. He had gotten off, and she had once again driven ahead to park her car, only to realize that he was getting a transfer. She had quickly dived back into her car just in time to follow the next bus, almost losing it as she tried to pull back into traffic.

Currently, he had gotten off the bus and was walking briskly into a side street, head down. Alex loitered at the corner; ready to dive behind a building should he turn back and look. But he had turned into one of the drives. Alex decided to take her chances and followed the path he had taken.

She knew that he didn't own this house, and she hadn't seen him here before. Perhaps he had a friend who lived here, but then why not take his car? She hesitated at the edge of the neighbor's lawn.

The lights were off in the house, making her think that there was nobody home. So where had he gone? Her answer came in the sound of a creaking door. He was entering the shed in the backyard. What on earth was he doing? Borrowing some tools from a friend who wasn't home? Alex doubted it.

But while his behaviour was suspicious, she had nothing conclusive as of yet.

Alex went back for her car, and parked it across the street. She would watch for him to leave, and duck down into the passenger seat should he go. She was sitting in her car for about twenty minutes when a car pulled into the driveway of the house where the agent had hidden in the shed. Alex deliberated for as long as it took the woman who had arrived home to close the garage door before making her decision.

Alex dialled 911 and heard the operator ask, "Fire, police, or ambulance?"

"Police," Alex replied nasally, in an attempt to conceal her voice.

When asked what the emergency was, Alex replied, "A strange man went into my neighbor's backyard and has been hiding in the shed. She just got home, and I'm a bit worried."

When they asked for further information, Alex gave the name of the street, and the house number before hanging up, despite them asking her not to. She went up to the house and tested the front door, seeing if the occupant had locked it behind her. She had.

Alex checked the usual places for a key, under the doormat, under the potted plant on the step, in the mailbox, and finally found it under the stairs themselves, in a weighted down Ziploc bag. She slipped the key out and debated entering and trying to find a place to hide in the house itself, just to make sure everything was okay. Glancing at the front window, she could see the shadow of the woman against the drawn curtains.

It was as she was looking that she saw another figure approach, and wrap its arms around the woman. Alex's heart leapt into her throat. Damn the curtains! Was he having an affair with her, or attempting to murder her? Surely if it was an affair he'd have a key? But maybe he was just making sure she came home without her husband?

They appeared to be struggling, and Alex decided to enter. If they heard her but everything was fine, she'd make a run for it. As soon as she turned the key in the lock and pushed the front door open, she knew that it wasn't the case. Something smashed as a coffee table turned over, and Alex raced towards the front room.

The Marshall was wearing a ski mask, gloves, and a coverall – gear he must have been keeping in the shed. He had a rope wrapped around the woman's neck as she struggled for air. Dashing forward, Alex seized a lamp sitting on another small table and shattered it on the back of his head.

Both he and the woman hit the floor with the force of her blow. Alex pulled him off of her as she took gasping breaths. Alex ripped the ski mask off of his head to confirm that he was the Marshall, and to see if he was conscious. He was dazed, but awake, and Alex pinned his arms with her legs, straddling his chest, and wrapped her hands around his throat. "If you try and move we'll find out how much _you_ like to be strangled!" she threatened.

"Get out of the way!"

Alex turned back to see that the woman holding a gun with one hand, and massaging her neck with the other. Apparently she kept a weapon in the room. "Who the hell are _you_?" she demanded.

The moment of distraction allowed the man to throw Alex off of him, in an attempt to escape or gain control of the situation Alex didn't know. A gunshot rang out, and he dropped back to the floor, a bloodstain spreading across his chest.

The woman had started shaking, tears threatening at the sight of him. "Call 911," Alex instructed, crawling forward and staunching the blood flow with both hands. She did as Alex asked, despite the fact that she had no idea who she was.

"How do you know Boyd?" Alex demanded in an urgent whisper, as the Marshall looked likely to lose consciousness at any moment.

"What?" he gurgled, coughing weakly.

"Boyd!" she snapped. "It was you who told him about me," she accused. "What else did you tell him? What's his plan?"

"Bitch, I don't know you from Adam," he responded, managing to bring up blood tinged phlegm, which he spat on the floor.

"I'm one of your cases!" she snapped, angry that he was playing dumb.

"Yeah, but I have no idea-" he paused to take a rasping breath, "- what you're talking about," he finished.

Could he be lying? He must be. What were the odds of both of her case agents being criminals? The man's head lolled to the side as he lost consciousness. "Argh, wake up!" Alex yelled, taking one hand from his chest to shake his shoulder. "Come on!" she snapped. She wasn't done with him, and needed to ensure that he really was telling the truth. Because if he was, then she had just given herself away, and Boyd could find her once again.

 

Alex's case agent had been linked to a string of homicides in the downtown area spanning nearly ten years. While she was pleased that she had caught a serial killer, and even more pleased that she had saved his next target's life, she was also growing more worried by the minute. There was no evidence at all that he was connected to Boyd.

It had taken a long explanation and a lot of convincing before the police believed her story. "You're telling us you were following this guy around and happened to catch him in the act of murder?"

"I believed he might have been leaking information about me to my would-be killer," Alex explained again. "I used to be a detective in New York – look me up!"

Finally, they did as she'd asked, returning to where she waited in the interview room some time later. "Alexandra Eames-Goren," one of them said, looking between her and a file he held in front of him, likely comparing a photograph of her to what she currently looked like. "You certainly look like her."

"I told you, I am her," Alex replied irritably.

"Your licence lists you as Marion Jones."

"I _told_ you," she said again, "I've been in witness protection for over a year now."

"Alexandra Eames-Goren's death is listed as hemorrhage, as a complication of childbirth."

"Well, they just used that as a reasonable excuse, before Boyd really did try to kill me," she snapped. "I was hemorrhaging, but clearly they managed to save me, as I'm sitting right here."

"You aren't listed anywhere in your supposed case agents' active cases," the other detective informed her.

"How on earth did the Marshall Service let you see their files?" she demanded.

"I have a buddy in their employ," one of the detectives said. "Convinced him it was a matter of urgency, that we had one of their people here with us. But you aren't in their files anywhere, not under Eames-Goren or Jones."

"Well there must have been some mistake," Alex replied. "Ask your man in custody, he already confirmed that he knew me on the scene, I'm sure he won't mind doing it again. Especially after I got him caught; he probably hopes Boyd will come and finish me off."

"We already did," one of the men said, "And he did indeed confirm your case. But he also gave us some rather interesting information. He said that his partner brought the case to him at the time, rather than it going through the service like it usually would."

"Are you saying," Alex asked slowly, "That I was never officially in witness protection? That it was all some kind of sham?" She was feeling flushed all of a sudden, and her hands had begun to shake. Perhaps seeing this, the two detectives exchanged glances before replying.

"We'll certainly be investigating that possibility."

"No!" she shouted, standing up. "Where is his partner? He must be the one in league with Boyd! Have you arrested him yet? I'm going to find him myself!"

"Calm down, one of the detectives cautioned. She was shaking hard now, and a numbness had started spreading through her body.

"No I won't calm down!" she raged. "I can't believe… I don't even know what's real anymore! Has Boyd orchestrated this whole thing? I don't know what's going on here!" She suddenly realized that she was breathing fast, each respiration coming in a gasp. Catching sight of herself in the glass, she saw that she was chalk white, and her eyes were rolling like a spooked horse.

One of the detectives was approaching her, hands out, trying to calm her. "I don't know what's real!" she repeated, hyperventilating. "I don't understand what's happened! I don't… I can't…" the room was spinning. She thought she heard one of the detectives yell out one of her names before the blackness closed in.


	19. Going Home

"Are John and Penny going to be okay?" Bobby asked. After Mike had gotten him released they had gone straight to Lewis's place, where Bobby had immediately taken Lexie into his arms and held her tight to him. He hadn't said a word the entire drive, just letting Mike's words wash over him. This was the first time he had spoken.

"They should be fine," Mike assured him. "It was lucky that the window in the guest bedroom was open though."

"It wasn't luck," Bobby countered darkly. "It's only the beginning of April; it's not that warm yet. Why would John and Penny have opened Lexie's window and risked her catching a chill?" He allowed only a moment of for Mike to consider before answering himself. "They wouldn't have. It was Boyd, or whoever he sent."

"You think Boyd purposely spared Lexie?" Mike asked. "Not that I'm complaining, but why would he do that? It doesn't make any sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Bobby disagreed, not quite making eye contact with either Mike or Lewis, his eyes unfocussed. "He murdered Alex more than a year ago, now he intended to kill John and Penny right after playing mind games with me. He was trying to put me in an extremely vulnerable state. But he would've left me Lexie on purpose. Boyd is patient, he intendeds to drag this game of his out as long as he can. He intends to keep breaking me further and further, until he can take every last shred of hope and joy from me, and Lexie would be the last. He would save my daughter for the last agony he could inflict on me, turning me so paranoid for her safety up until that point that I would probably end up insane in the process anyway."

The other two men sat in stunned silence at Bobby's prediction, before Lewis said, "Dude, that is some real disturbing shit."

" _Really_?" Mike mouthed at him over Bobby's shoulder.

Lewis shrugged apologetically. "What do you want from me man, subtly isn't my strong suit."

"No, Lewis is right," Bobby said, the hint of a smile making itself known. "It is some pretty disturbing shit."

Mike and Lewis both laughed nervously, and Lexie imitated them in her own baby giggle which brought the first true smile to Bobby's face. "Things could have been much worse," Bobby said. "And I have you guys to thank that it wasn't. So thank you."

"Hey, it's alright man," Lewis said. "Glad to help."

"You have people that care about you still," Mike reminded him.

"I know," Bobby replied. "You guys are great friends."

"Well, let's end it with the sentimentality," Lewis said. "How was it being in a true psych ward?"

"Lewis!" Mike groaned. "Really?"

But Bobby just grinned, pleased to see his two best friends getting along so well. He truly was lucky to have them.

"Really though," Lewis said. "It must have sucked, especially since you knew everyone thought you really had gone postal. Was that what the psycho guy wanted?"

"In part," Bobby replied, frowning. "But he also wanted me to believe it too. He wanted me to believe that Alex wasn't real; that Lexie wasn't my daughter."

Both Mike and Lewis exchanged meaningful glances at Bobby actually speaking her name. It was a rare occasion for him to do so. "What the hell is the point of that?" Mike demanded. "Who the fuck does this guy think he is?"

"At least it didn't work," Lewis commented.

"Didn't it?" Bobby had a faraway look in his eyes again, like he wasn't aware that he was in Lewis's apartment with Lexie in his lap.

"No, man, you asked me right away about Lexie, you knew it wasn't true," Lewis said anxiously.

"Maybe I just figured that if Alex and Lexie weren't real, then I didn't want reality anyway."

There was silence following that proclamation. Even Lewis had no comment to that. It was Lexie who broke the silence, by standing up with her hands clenched on Bobby's shirt and squealing, "Da!" at him, followed by a slobbery kiss on his chin.

"I missed you too, baby girl," he told her.

 

Alex had checked herself out of the hospital as soon as they confirmed that she hadn't suffered a brain bleed. She made a mental note to thank whichever detective had caught her so that she didn't smash her head into the floor when she had passed out at the police station. Now she was on her way back to the area where she had lived for the past year.

"Tom!" Alex called, hitting the door with her fist. It opened moments later to reveal Tom with Lucas in his arms.

"Marion," he gasped. "I've been so worried; I tried calling the police, but they said that they had no reason to believe anything had happened to you and it seemed like you had packed a bag and left willingly, oh my God I didn't know what to say – what happened?" He then crushed her within his arms, squishing the baby between them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Alex mumbled into his shirt.

"What happened?" he demanded. "Forget that for a moment, come in, come in," he said.

She did, following him into the house. He set Lucas down and the baby threw himself at Alex, wrapping his arms around her legs. "Hey, I missed you too," she told him. A moment later he had raced off to get his favourite toy to show her. "Very nice," she told him, following both Lucas and Tom back into the living room. "Can I use your computer?" Alex asked Tom.

"Sure, so long as you tell me what happened," Tom replied.

"Thanks." Alex grabbed his laptop and sat onto the couch next to him. "Tom," she hesitated for a moment before opening the laptop. "It's going to be pretty hard to believe."

"No more than you disappearing without any warning," he replied. "I'm all ears. What's going on?"

"I'm not Marion Jones," she said, turning to the screen she had just opened to avoid looking at him.

"What?"

"I told you about a car crash that killed my husband, but that's not actually what happened."

"Okay," Tom said uncertainly.

"I was a detective back there, and so was Bobby, my husband," she explained. "My partner and I caught a case involving multiple homicides, and we both testified against the perp right before I left for maternity leave." She opened the web browser and typed in the address for the police database. She entered her own name and credentials; there was no point in hiding if Boyd knew where she was anyway.

"That man that we testified against murdered my partner, and then came after me. I was injured, but survived, only it led to a complication in the pregnancy," she continued, sticking to the facts to avoid getting emotional. "When I went into labour there was an issue and they had to do a C-section. Only when I woke up, I was here, at the local hospital, and Bobby and our baby were gone."

"Oh God, Marion, I'm so sorry," Tom stammered.

"It's Alex, actually," she replied. "And thank you. But I have reason to believe recently that my case agents, the ones who supposed to look out for me while I was in witness protection, aren't who they say they are. That's where I've been. I just caught one of them in the act of attempted murder."

" _What_? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but I need to figure out what's going on here, get to the bottom of things. I think that Boyd, the one who tried to kill me, might have been the one responsible for relocating me here. I think he might have been the one to cause the explosion at the church. And I need to figure out what his game is here."

Tom stared at her in open-mouthed shock, having no idea what to say. Alex kept her eyes trained to the screen, where she was searching Bobby's name in the system. She needed to read his file. Nothing was coming up.

"For crying out loud," she raged. She opened Google to do a simple web search. Maybe if she found date of death, she could put the date into the system instead of Bobby's name. Sometimes if a typo is made when entering the name into the system it wouldn't come up in the search. Hitting enter, she waited, but no obituary link came up. What did come up was her own obituary; from being in witness protection it had been necessary. Hers had come up from the name Goren being connected in Alexandra Eames-Goren.

"It that you?" Tom asked shakily.

"Yes," she replied, clicking the link. Maybe there would be a link to Bobby from this page.

She skimmed through without paying much attention. There didn't seem to be a link to another page. She was about to hit the back button when the last few lines caught her eyes. _Alexandra is survived by her husband, daughter, parents, brother, and sister. Condolences may be sent_ -

But she hadn't bothered to read the rest. She let out a small cry, her eyes filling with tears. "Mar-Alex," Tom corrected himself. "What's wrong?"

"They're _alive_!" She pointed to the screen with a shaking hand. "I… I never thought, never would have _dreamed_ that they had lied about that too. I have a daughter?" She broke off in a sob. "I thought they were dead, Tom, I really thought…"

He wrapped his arms around her, rocking her slightly. "What do I do now?" she asked through her tears.

"Go to them," Tom said. "Honey, your family is still alive – you run to them as fast as you can."

 

Bobby double checked all of the locks on the doors and windows after putting Lexie down for her nap. He settled down on the couch in the sitting area, but didn't think he would be able to distract himself from his worries about Boyd. There had been no trace of him anywhere in the vicinity. It turned out that he had forged a medical license and had opened the facility specifically for his charade with Bobby. All the other patients really were patients requiring mental health care, and all of the other staff was legitimate. It had been some length that Boyd had gone to.

This worried Bobby greatly. To have put so much time and energy into what he had done, for it to only last short time… There appeared to be no length to which Boyd wouldn't go to play his game. Bobby sighed despondently. Unless he was killed or incarcerated, it appeared that there would be no end to playing Boyd's game.

Just then, Bobby's phone rang. He rushed over and snatched it up quickly, hoping it hadn't woken up the baby. "Yeah, Goren," he answered in a hushed tone, fingers crossed.

"Bobby?"

The bottom dropped out of Bobby's stomach. He knew that voice, even after more than a year… But that was impossible. "Who is this?" he hissed.

"Bobby, it's me; it's Alex."

"What is this, some kind of recording?" Bobby snapped, enraged. Boyd was playing games with him again, still trying to convince him he was insane. "This is some sick prank," Bobby snarled, and he promptly hung up.

Nerves fraying, hands shaking, Bobby stumbled back over to the couch and flopped onto it. The room was spinning, and he took deep steady breaths to try and keep himself from passing out. The nerve of Boyd! Bobby probably shouldn't have hung up; he probably should have stayed on the line and gotten a trace. But chances were that Boyd was too smart to use a traceable phone, and in any case, Bobby had had more than enough mind games in the recent past to last him a lifetime.

 

Alex thought that he might not have the same number. For all she knew, he might have moved away. But she had to try. She wanted to tell her husband that she was coming home. So she had picked up a pay phone at the airport and dialled home collect.

But he hadn't believed that it was her. In hindsight, she should have realized that he would be suspicious. She had even thought that he might not recognize her voice, or that he wouldn't believe it was her. But he had instead thought that someone was playing a cruel joke on him.

It hurt her to have him reject her. But soon he would realize that it was true. She was going home.


	20. From the Beginning

"She is heading back to him now."

"I know," Boyd replied.

"Should I stop her at the airport?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I could only hold her captive to keep her from returning."

"So?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"I don't understand you at all."

"You don't have to." Boyd observed the other man thoughtfully. "You've been discovered. It's only a matter of time before someone comes for you."

"I can run."

"You will not."

"You think you can convince me to stay here with the cops after me?"

"I don't have to convince you," Boyd replied slyly. "You will not be able to flee."

"And why is that?"

"Because you're already dead."

The other man stood up, eyeing Boyd fearfully. "What do you mean?"

"I finished up with my other business and decided to pay a visit to our lovely target myself, and found a record of her visiting the local cops, after catching your partner in the act of murder. Which could only mean that you would be discovered. And so I laced your water bottle with cyanide. How much have you had to drink?"

The other man turned to flee the room, but he would not make it to any hospital. Boyd didn't bother to chase him, instead opting to remain standing in the room, laughing. Killing the nurse had given him the itch. After arranging for the death of John and Penelope Eames, with special instructions for saving his best poker chip for last, he had been itching to kill again. Perhaps he would allow the mice to his cat to catch a break while he satisfied the urge to kill again. The game he intended to play with the Goren-Eames household would take all of his concentration.

 

Alex banged on the front door with her fist, hoping and praying that he still lived in the same building. It was the middle of the night, but if he was still a light sleeper he would already be up and on his way to the door. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she heard from the other side of the door. Heart racing, she stood in nervous anticipation.

The door was flung open. "I'm dreaming," he whispered wonderingly.

"No," Alex replied thickly. "It's me; it's really me." A moment later and she was crushed in his embrace.

"If this is a dream, I don't care," his voice said roughly in her ear. "I don't ever want to wake up."

"They told me you were dead," she explained past the lump in her throat, clinging to him as though her life depended on it.

He finally released her after holding her long enough to convince himself that he was awake. "How?"

"I'm not exactly sure… It's just that they said you were dead, and I'd been moved into witness protection, only now I don't think any of it was legitimate," she said all in a rush. "I really thought you were dead." Neither sure who had moved first, she was in his arms again.

"I thought _you_ were dead."

"I know," she answered. "This whole situation is so unreal." There was a pause before she dared to ask, "Bobby? They told me our baby was dead too."

He leapt back again, stunned. "No," he said vehemently. "She's here – asleep. I'll wake her right now; come in, I'll be right back," he instructed, speaking quickly in his excitement.

Alex entered the apartment, familiar, yet somehow foreign. And then Bobby returned, cradling in his arms a small child. She was brushing a few strands of blonde hair from her still-sleepy eyes, all the while watching Bobby as he spoke softly to her with tears in his eyes.

Alex froze, staring in wonder. She had been so focussed on the fact that Bobby was alive, she hadn't even considered – the baby was more than a year old now. She was no longer the newborn that Alex had imagined in her mind's eye. Though her legs remained stiff and unmoving, Alex could feel her chest hitching with barely controlled sobs as she held her arms out, reaching for her child for the first time.

"Lexie," Bobby croaked, "This is your Mommy."

Lexie, accustomed to falling into open arms as Bobby leaned her forward, allowed herself to be passed over. In that moment, it seemed to Alex as though her arms had always been waiting to cradle her daughter, as though this was the place she belonged. Lexie stared back at the only parent she had ever known, uncertain.

Alex told herself firmly that she should not be hurt if the baby cried, or tried to get back to Bobby. Her daughter didn't know her at all. And though she gripped her tightly, she insisted firmly in her own mind that she would pass her child back if Lexie got upset.

Perhaps it was Bobby's encouraging nod, or the fact that these arms felt so similar to those of the grandmother she adored, but a moment later Lexie had cuddled up close to Alex's chest and tucked her head under her mother's chin. Tears streamed down Alex's face as she wrapped her arms just a bit tighter around her baby. It seemed to Alex that it was almost as if Lexie knew that she belonged here too.

 

Lexie had been returned to her crib and was once again fast asleep. Both of her parents sat against her door, watching her breathe, hardly daring to believe that they weren't dreaming. Alex was leaning into Bobby's chest, and he had wrapped an arm around her shoulders, keeping her close. "Can we just stay here tonight?" Alex whispered.

"Yes."

Neither one dared to close their eyes for fear that they would wake up from this dream. Because for both of them, if it was simply a dream, they didn't ever want to wake up. Alex was content to rest against her husband, lulled by the sound of his heart beating strongly with life, and watch her daughter, her living child, breathe deeply in sleep. The sounds of her family's life surrounded her, and she snaked one arm up to wrap around her husband.

Bobby kissed the top of her head, still not daring to believe that this could really be happening. Lexie, sleeping soundly, and Alex, leaning against him and somehow, miraculously, alive. The weight of her against him was a comfort, both familiar and strange in how long her presence had been absent.

And both of them knew who was to blame for that. It was the middle of the night, and so they took their comfort simply in having their family together again. But come morning, someone was going to pay for how long they had been broken apart.

 

"I want to see my parents."

Bobby had told Alex about what had happened to them. He nodded in understanding. "I can give Lewis a call and see if he can take Lexie. Then we could go straight to 1PP after."

"I'd rather take her with," Alex answered, looking at where their daughter was playing with a few brightly coloured blocks.

"Right, of course," Bobby said, mentally giving himself a shake. This was all new to her. And having both her and Lexie was new to him.

Alex still found it had to believe that she had a one year old child. She didn't even know what to do with her. What she liked, what she didn't, how much sleep she needed, her favourite toy – Alex knew nothing. Her own daughter was a complete stranger.

"Here," Bobby interrupted her reverie, passing Lexie over.

Alex settled the baby on her hip. Lexie was watching her with vague interest, as though she wasn't quite sure what to make of this person. Maybe the previous night was a fluke, and Lexie would start crying now? "Maybe you should take her," Alex suggested. "I don't really know what I'm doing."

"That's how I felt at first too," Bobby said, swinging the diaper bag over his shoulder with ease. "It'll come."

"Will it?"

"Yes," he replied firmly.

She looked doubtful, shifting Lexie on her hip. "Does she need anything else?"

"It's all in here," Bobby replied, patting the diaper bag.

She nodded in response, still looking unsure.

"To the hospital?" Bobby asked. "They're going to be so thrilled to see you, beyond thrilled, they're going to be amazed and – what?" he cut himself off.

"Nothing," Alex replied, smiling. "It's just that I've really missed you."

 

"I've died," Penny murmured disbelievingly. "I'm dead right now, and I can't even be angry."

"No, Mom, it's really me," Alex whispered past the lump in her throat.

There were tears shed by everyone in the room, with the exception of Lexie, as Alex embraced first her mother, then her father, both of them still staring at her in utter disbelief.

"I don't understand," Penny sobbed. "How did this happen?"

"Tell us everything," her father instructed. "Start from the beginning."

 

Alex and Bobby walked into the station, hands clenched tightly together. Most people were so accustomed to sliding their glance away from Bobby that their entrance wasn't even noticed until they entered the bullpen where Mike was standing with his mouth agape.

"Holy fucking shit," he murmured in much the same way one might whisper a prayer. "Fucking _shit_ , man, what the fuck?"

"Nice to see you too," Alex said, smirking, but there was sincerity in her eyes.

With one last, "Holy _fuck_ ," Mike swept forward and swung her off the ground in an embrace. "How?" he asked after releasing her, staring between Bobby and Alex in disbelief.

"We've got to talk to the captain," Alex said. "Why don't you come with? I have a feeling I'm going to get sick of telling this story pretty quickly."

 

Alex and Bobby were back in their apartment again, together. She was nestled against him, watching Lexie play with a chunky toy firetruck at their feet. She had given Lexie her lunch earlier, revelling in the small task as though it could somehow connect her to this baby that she knew nothing about. Bobby was gazing at Alex as though all his dreams had come true.

"You know," Alex commented, "You've heard me explain what happened to me multiple times. But tell me what happened here." Her eyes flicked over to where their daughter sat. "Start from the beginning."

 

"I can sleep on the couch if you want," Bobby offered.

"Bobby, no," Alex replied, frowning. It would be their first night spent together since the she had come home, except for the time spent together leaning against Lexie's bedroom door when she had first arrived in the middle of the night. "If you don't want to share, I should take the couch. This has been your place for over a year."

"I just don't want to make you feel uncomfortable," he mumbled, looking at the floor. "I mean, it's been a year; I don't want to assume anything."

"This is your home now; I can go somewhere else," she said. "I mean, I shouldn't have assumed anything either. You thought I was dead after all."

"It's still your home, if you want it to be."

She moved forward to stand close to him, looking up to try and make eye contact. "Do you want me to stay?"

"If _you_ want to."

"I do."

He offered a tentative smile. "Then I want you to stay more than I've ever wanted anything else."

She snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him close. He lifted her off the ground, crushing her against him. "There was no one else for me," he choked out. "God I've missed you. I've missed you so much."

Sliding down from his arms, she stood on tip toe to answer in a thoroughly non-verbal manner. It was as though a distant memory was growing clearer with each passing moment as their lips moved hungrily over each other and their hands tore away each other's clothes.

Her feet still remembered the way to their bed without looking. Their clothes fell where they dropped them in a haphazard path from the doorway to the bed. He broke away as they reached the bed, both breathing heavily. "Are you sure?"

She pushed him down to the bed, straddling him. "Yes," she hissed in his ear.

There was no hesitation for either of them after that. It was somewhat new again, but even with the bumped noses and scraping teeth, it didn't matter. They had each other once more. And as they came together they could believe that everything was going to be okay again. They were home.


	21. Motive

For a while, Bobby and Alex were caught up in trying to get back in sync with each other. It wasn't easy, especially at first. Their lives had changed and so much had happened that there were many false starts and misunderstandings. Boyd, and whatever he had planned, remained at the back of their minds. There was the constant nagging worry of where he was and what he might be doing like an itch that couldn't be scratched.

Alex went back to work at Major Case. She, Bobby, Mike, and Carolyn continued to go over the casefile on Boyd, but were unable to glean any new information. Alex's supposed case agent from being in witness protection was dead. How he had met Boyd, and why he had agreed to help him, remained a mystery. They received correspondence from Boyd only once in the next few months, in the form of a greeting card in which he had scribbled: _Enjoy your vacation_. Apparently, they were to get a reprieve from his game.

"But why?" Alex asked for what felt like the hundredth time. "Why would he go to all the trouble he did just to let it go?"

"He's doing something else," Bobby answered, again for what felt like the hundredth time. "He's probably preparing the next step in his game."

"Patient bastard," Mike added.

"But how do we find him?" Alex demanded, standing up.

"We need more clues," Bobby muttered. "We have to wait for him to start playing again."

"That is such bullshit," Alex stormed, leaving the room in a rage.

Bobby and Mike watched her go. "Aren't you going to follow her?" Mike asked.

"I don't know what to say." Bobby stared at the closed door resignedly. Sometimes it seemed like there was always a closed door between them. Other times it was like they had never been apart. But it gave Bobby the same feeling as picking his way down a flight of stairs after missing a step: very cautiously, suddenly aware that this thing that should be automatic could leave him faltering. She was likely feeling similarly, but he had no idea what he was supposed to do about it.

"Let's call it a night," he said to Mike.

When he found Alex again, she was standing in Lexie's room, rocking her. "Hey," he said softly. She didn't answer, but instead lowered Lexie into the crib.

"She's asleep," Alex whispered as she passed him.

Bobby wordlessly followed, unsure if he should try and talk to her, or let her be. He was saved the trouble of trying to figure out the best course of action by her spinning around to face him.

"Why?" she asked tremulously. "Why does he want to play this game with us? What did we do to deserve this? Why can't he leave well enough alone? Why did I have to miss a year with you and Lexie? Why didn't I figure out that something was off sooner? Why didn't I come back right away? Why?"

By now there were tears in her eyes and she struggled against the tears, breath hitching with each question. "Why?" she asked again, her resolve finally crumbling as she collapsed in on herself, giving in to tears.

In two smooth steps Bobby had wrapped his arms around her. "I ask myself the same things," he muttered hoarsely into her hair. "I don't know," he murmured. "I don't know. I wish I had investigated more fully, I wish I'd questioned everything. Why didn't I? I don't know."

"You had Lexie," Alex sobbed. "What's my excuse?"

"You didn't know," Bobby answered. "Hey," he said, leaning back to see her. "You couldn't possibly have known." He stroked her cheek with one finger, then gently took her jaw in his hand and tilted her chin up. "It wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it?" she asked. "I brought him into our lives; I should have seen through his game-"

"Who would have expected this?" Bobby asked.

She leaned forward to rest her forehead against his chest. "You're right," she hiccupped. She took a deep shuddering breath before stepping back to look at him again. "You're right," she repeated. "This is no one's fault but Boyd's."

Though her eyes were still wet with tears, it did nothing to mask the determination that burned behind them. "We're going to get him Bobby. We have to."

 

"You know, something has bothered me about this since the beginning," Bobby remarked.

He and Alex were sitting on the floor with the Boyd files spread all around them: scattered on furniture, strewn across their own laps, and mixed with empty coffee mugs spreading around where they sat like the centre of a ripple in water.

"What's that?" she asked, tipping the last drops of coffee into her mouth before discarding the mug with the others.

"From the day of his sentencing in court he had said to you that he was going to destroy all of you."

Alex cast her memory back and found the half-forgotten conversation they had had what felt like a lifetime ago. "The wrong word," she recalled. "He said all instead of both."

"Right."

"He was probably including you," she said, shrugging. "Given the games he's played since, I think it would be safe to assume that's what he meant. He was including you, me, and Cassleman."

"Why?"

"How should I know?" Alex asked irritably. "Because we got him locked up-"

"Right," Bobby interrupted, "But that was you and Cassleman; I had nothing to do with that."

" _Okay_ , sorry," she snapped, slapping the file she was holding into the floor and reaching for another. "Next time I'll let the perp walk."

"That's not what I meant," he said. "I'm not blaming you. What I'm saying is that if this was all about revenge, then why was I included in the game from the start?"

Alex looked up from the file, frowning. "Entertainment?"

"Maybe," Bobby acknowledged. "But I wish I knew for sure. It just doesn't sit right with me. If he was after revenge, killing me or harming me in some way to get to you would make more sense."

"Well he killed Cassleman and left Jessie alive," Alex reminded him.

"Yes and there's that too," Bobby said. "If it was strict revenge; you locked me up, now I'm going to punish you – then you and Cassleman should have been treated the same. Either both killed, or both drawn into his game. But he only killed Cassleman. He never even bothered to communicate with him before the fact at all. Why?"

"Maybe he killed Cassleman in revenge and then thought of a much more sadistic method for me?"

"I don't buy that. He's way too methodical. This was all planned down to every detail. Changing the plan on a whim doesn't fit. Besides, he already included me in the game from that day in court, before Cassleman's murder. He wanted to draw us in from the beginning."

Alex pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes squeezed shut. "I don't know Bobby," she sighed. "It hardly matters at this point. I just want to put him away for good so that we can get on with our lives."

"Everything matters," Bobby disagreed. "If he targeted both of us from the start then that changes everything. It changes Boyd's profile, which could lead us to him."

"Right," Alex agreed with a sigh. "So what does it mean if you and I were both targeted from the start?"

Bobby frowned, dropping the case files and organizing his thoughts. "Take revenge out of the equation," he began slowly, "What does that change?"

"His motive," Alex supplied. "We've been assuming this whole time that all of this was because Cassleman and I put him away. But if it isn't revenge then why is he doing this?"

"Okay," Bobby muttered, clearing a space in front of him and grabbing a pen. "Let's say there is no revenge motive." He grabbed a paper and began scribbling onto it as he spoke. "You and I were the targets from the start. Then Cassleman's murder wasn't revenge – it was done to get to you. Step one in his game."

"But you were the one who pointed out the wrong word from the start," Alex reminded him. She shifted positions so that she could look at the rough diagram of words and lines Bobby was constructing. "If he was threatening you and I instead of Cassleman and I, he should have still said both and not all. And I'm sure he meant Cassleman; he was looking at him."

"Okay," Bobby muttered, writing Cassleman's name and circling it. "Okay so he did want to punish Cassleman. But I still don't think it was revenge, Alex. He should have treated you the same if he had the same motivation for him as for you."

"What else is there?" she asked.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment before Bobby spoke again. "There has to be another connection."

"Between you, me, Cassleman, and Boyd?" Alex asked doubtfully. "Us locking him up is the only one; I'm sure. I mean, I'd only worked with Cassleman for about a year. You didn't have a connection to Cassleman besides me, did you?"

"Not that I know of," Bobby replied, eyes narrowing in concentration. "Not unless it was something small or some time ago that I've forgotten about."

"Well if it's so small and insignificant then it wouldn't be Boyd's motive, would it?" Alex asked.

"It may have seemed like nothing to us and been something more to him."

"Well where does Boyd fit in then? Honestly, Bobby, I don't see how there could be another connection that none of us were aware of."

"All right, so forget all of this for just a second," Bobby instructed, tossing his diagram aside and grabbing a file folder to scribble a new one on instead. The word motive, underlined and in large print, was still visible on the paper with how it had landed.

"Sorry?" Alex asked, pulling her gaze from the discarded paper and trying to follow where he was going now.

"We need to go back to the start."

"I thought that's what we were doing?"

"No, not from Boyd's incarceration," Bobby clarified. "Back before the game started, back to the very beginning. How did you and Cassleman get assigned to this case?"

"Umm," Alex mumbled, switching gears and searching her memory. "The mayor requested Major Case involvement, I think."

"You think or you know?" Bobby asked. "It's important; every detail is relevant."

"I know," she snapped. "I know," she repeated, firmly this time, in answer to his question. "One of the victims was the mayor's niece, he asked for us to be involved after her murder."

"Right, okay," Bobby muttered, scribbling that information onto the back of the folder. "Which victim number was she?"

"Four," Alex replied. "Homicide had only just connected the first three when the mayor's niece was killed."

"Why did it take them so long?"

"They were from out of State, so it took some time to ID them."

"They weren't connected until they were ID'd?"

"No," Alex replied. "They had all gone missing at the same time, and were last seen together. Their bodies had been burned post-mortem so the evidence of torture and signs of strangulation weren't visible right away. We didn't even know about the torture until the tapes."

"How was the fourth victim connected to the others?"

"She was tortured, strangled, and burned post-mortem like the others. The ME linked them based on COD and the burning post-mortem. And after the tapes were sent it was confirmed."

"Okay, two things," Bobby murmured absently, pen scratching away. "First, when did you get the first tape? Before or after you and Cassleman were the lead detectives?"

"After," Alex replied. "And we didn't get them. I wish we had. They got sent to the victims' families."

Bobby nodded to himself. "So Boyd sent the tapes."

"Right."

"Only after you and Cassleman were involved."

"I guess."

Bobby was still nodding to himself, so Alex asked, "What was the other thing?"

"Well, the first three girls were all taken at the same time, from the same place. But the mayor's niece was taken alone. That's a pretty significant change in MO."

"We thought so too," Alex agreed. "But the first three who were taken were higher risk victims. They were all addicted to meth, for one thing. We figured the perp said he was holding and lured them all that way. The fourth victim was only one rather than a group, but would have been more difficult to take because she lived a less risky lifestyle. We thought he was challenging himself to more difficult victims, but starting small. Or that he had taken all three of the previous victims just because he could, rather than separating one from a group like he needed to for the mayor's niece."

"Or the mayor's niece was chosen to get Major Case involved."

"To get us?" Alex asked. "So he wanted Major Case? The same way that some perps want FBI involvement?"

"Boyd is meticulous," Bobby answered. "Every detail was planned out carefully. I don't think he just wanted Major Case. I think he wanted you."

"Well he'd have no way of knowing that I'd get the assignment," Alex replied. "Besides, that was all before I'd ever met Boyd. Why would he have targeted me before I even got his case?"

"I don't know," Bobby mused. "You're absolutely certain there's no personal connection?"

"I'm sure," Alex insisted. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"You said he targeted both of us. Maybe you're the connection?"

Bobby frowned. "I don't think so, Alex. Although… He mentioned something to me before; when he was masquerading as a doctor. He talked about my time in the military. Maybe I met him there without even remembering? Did he ever serve in the military?"

"No," Alex replied. "I'm sure I would remember that. Besides, if he met you in the army, what's the connection to me, except by association? The connection has to be more recent. It had to involve something that's happened since we met."

"A case we worked as partners?" Bobby guessed. "Maybe we should look back over unsolved casefiles. It's possible that Boyd was the perp in a case we worked together."

"But that brings us back to revenge," Alex said. "And I thought revenge wasn't the motive?"

"It's not revenge if we didn't catch him," Bobby pointed out.

"Okay, but what about Cassleman? How is he connected?"

Bobby threw the pen down in frustration. "We're still missing something."


End file.
